《The Crown of Albion》


 Prologue

    A cold October wind blew its way betwixt age old oaks and elms along a winding, twisting earthen way almost forgotten to time. As the wind blew, it carried torrents of chill rain through creaking branches that seemed to serve no cover at all. A man knelt down amongst the trees, nestled inside the flimsy cover of a bush. Keeping his head down, the man drew his large woolen coat closer about himself, silently cursing at both the fell weather and the purpose for his presence. It was a miserable dreary day, with sheeting rain falling hard enough to soak any man to the bone foolish enough to be caught out in the open with nary a cloak, and a dull gray overcast sky mocking those mere mortals daring to hope for an ounce of warmth. It was no weather for any one man to be out in, let alone an entire band, and yet here they were.


    Semi obscured by the swaying branches of old forest sentinels, but whose presence was wholly betrayed by the loud, rhythmic clanking of metal striking against metal, and the incessant pattering of the rain droplets against cold steel, an army marched. A long column of armed men stretched as far as the concealed man could spy from his meager cover, vibrations felt through the earth reverberating with every synchronized step of the mass of marching men. The man had sighted them coming upon his position that morning, a scant few hours after the lightening of the sky, and now even thought it was as late as midday, the seemingly endless column moved on with sign of abating. He scanned the banners as the army marched on. Here was the eagle quartered with bull of house Davian, there were the crossed fern fronds of house Thistlewood, and so on for what must have been dozens of banners.


    The enshrouded man¡¯s name was Roland Hill, and he had been waiting there for weeks, camping out of sight, but within earshot of the road a few dozen paces from his current position. He gently ran his fingers over a dull, brass insignia, an eye, on an amulet concealed underneath his cloak. It had been her order that had seen him consigned to lie in wait along this weary road, searching for any trace of an invading army. It was almost laughable, centuries of peace from without, and now, at the time of the Empire¡¯s greatest strength, she suspected an invasion and had posted him on this road, so far from the border in the overgrown wildlands of the Empire¡¯s heart.


    The long and timeworn road upon which he now lay concealed, King Hagar¡¯s Way, stretched from the western reaches of the empire to its capital Maegwyn, passing through the cover of several vast forests on its way as it ran its course through the heart of the empire. A relic of ages past built during the far off days of the old country before the advent of the empire, it had served as a major highway servicing several large farming villages that worked to feed the capital.


    Presently however, it had long fallen into disuse, the towns it had serviced having been abandoned or swept away from the plague centuries prior. Now they were overgrown with dark trees and vines that had reclaimed town, field, and road indiscriminately, casting the ruins in ill-omened gloom. Now only a few isolated villages remained along the road, such as Melsbrook, the King¡¯s Highway having supplanted the road¡¯s original purpose as main artery from the western reaches to the capital.


    Having been made centuries before with no ease of access to the blasting charges that may be found in more modern quarries, the compacted earthen road wound its way leisurely through the forest, giving way for any boulders or age-old sentinels in its path. It was far from a direct route, and its earthen construction meant that in such misbegotten weather, wagon wheels and armored boots alike would struggle to proceed at threat of becoming mucked down. Furthermore, the complete lack of maintenance save for the occasional travelling peddlers or the local lord¡¯s tax collectors had allowed the undergrowth to narrow and constrict the road in many places, making it a uniquely slow and uncomfortable track for any large band of travelers. Only the truly desperate would move in such numbers on such an arduous path.


    Roland pondered, frowning as he gazed upon the mass of men. Professional soldiers all, men at arms and knights clad head to toe in plate and mail, halberds, pikes, and longswords all in abundance. These men were personal retinues of each of the noble houses whose banners under which they marched, with not a peasant to be seen. He knew this army well, for each of these houses were sworn bannermen and knights to Edward, the Duke of Brackenweir, and uncle to the Empress.


    This army had been assembled as a show of force to conniving local nobility and greedy foreign enemies alike, exhibiting with pride and skill the power of the Duke of Brackenweir. It was a rarity, sighting such a vast and well-equipped force in the Empire. Ever since the current Empress had risen to power, the nobility had been on the decline as she zealously usurped their privileges for her own imperial prerogative. Bit by bit, the noose about the necks of the formerly ascendent aristocracy was systematically drawn tighter. Here and there, isolated groups of nobles protested, resisted, and at times even resorted to all out rebellion, but so gradually did the Empress chip away at their power that those few that did dare to defy her will were swiftly cast down, losing land, title, and life to the very lives of each surviving member of their now fallen houses in the more extreme cases. The remaining houses for the most part were meek and feeble, many of their lands appropriated for the direct control of the crown, their armed retinues either forcefully disbanded or absorbed into the steadily growing imperial army, leaving naught but a handful of professional soldiers to each house for the personal protection of their estates, patrolling their borders, and a scant few for the enforcement of law within their remaining holdings.


    Thus, it was rather unusual to sight such a force, not that of the hastily levied peasantry, but a well armed and trained army of professional fighting men. However, since this was the personal command of the Duke of Brackenweir, it was only to be expected. Long before the current Lord Protector had risen to his lofty position as right hand of the Empress, it had been her uncle that was both her advisor and protector, commanding her armies in the field as she vied for the crown against her siblings and their aristocratic puppet masters. Having long since proven his unshakeable loyalty through force of arms and becoming a pillar of the state, the duke and his bannermen were naturally exempted from many of the restrictions that had befallen their erstwhile brethren. The fact that his heavily armed but equally vast domain abutted the kingdom of Aachenwald directly to the west, a land of particularly rugged and often hostile people, was no small boon to the continued safety of the empire.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    However, Roland had never thought to have seen this army on this windy, forgotten road, let alone in this chill weather, where every step would be taxing on both man and horse, and the freezing night with not a twig of dry wood for miles would chill a man to his very bones. Even now, he sighted teams of men pushing wagons whose horses lacked the strength to wrench them free from the sopping muck that the earthen road had devolved into. This army he mused, was far from where it should be, and clearly unprepared for the current weather.


    The Duke¡¯s army was supposed to have met with the western legions of the imperial army at the city of Davenport, mere miles from the border with Aachenwald. However here it was, not even in the Duchy, but in the capital region, hundreds of miles from their destination and on an old, forgotten road ill suited to a force of such great size. What reason could there be for them to be here? Roland pondered, his brows furrowing in thought. While there had been a fear of invasion, these men were still clad in unblemished armor, marred and stained only with the dirt and grime of travel, not from the test of combat. They could not be fleeing some greater force either, neither on such an arduous and indirect route, nor without sending word to the imperial legions present in Brackenweir or directly to the Empress.


    There remained no doubt in the Roland¡¯s mind as to the ultimate destination of the army as it inexorably trudged onward, no matter its circumstances it could only be travelling to the empire¡¯s capital, there was nothing else of note along this path save the tiny hamlet of Melsbrook in which he lived, posing as a local hunter. The only reason to take this path was secrecy, and no matter the past service of the Duke if he was moving a host into the capital, veiled from the Empress¡¯s eye, it could only mean one thing, treason. Roland¡¯s eyes widened with utter certainty of his assertion as he beheld the next company of men to crest the bend at the end of his field of vision.


    They were flamboyantly dressed in all manners of colorful panoply, clad in shining armor over cloth of garish greens, reds, and yellows. Long pikes held aloft on their shoulders, interspersed with large men somehow even more flamboyantly dressed in feathered hats crossed and stitched with bolts of expensive fabrics wielding almost impossibly large greatswords a band of men marched, beneath the brazen banner of a dragon swallowing a lance held aloft by the largest man Roland had ever seen. These were no men of the Empire, with faces rugged and hair wild and unkempt, much longer than the usual trends in the Empire, these could only be men of Aachenwald, and not just any men but of the professional mercenary companies raised by the King of Aachenwald himself.


    Black of reputation almost as dark as the contrasting brightness of their garish dress, these mercenary companies were dreaded throughout Aachenwald and beyond. Their infamous reputation for pillage and destruction on par with their unshakeable discipline in combat, for which the King of that tumultuous realm had relied on them extensively for preserving his rule, squandering great quantities of coin in the process. For foreigners at all, let alone such black hearted men to be included in the army of the Duke of Brackenweir confirmed to Roland with certainty that treason was afoot.


    Already in the capital region of the empire, the Duke of Brackenweir was mere weeks from being able to attack the capital itself and, if not for the now blessed tumult of rain that had turned the already constrictive road to muck, he and his host of traitorous knights, men at arms, and now black hearted mercenaries may have already reached it. Roland silently crept back to his campsite, heart pounding in his chest. If he was found, he had no doubt as to his final fate, but the Empress must be warned. Reaching the site, under a blessedly secure cover of spread animal hides, he penned a quick note detailing his findings.


    The Duchy of Brackenweir has risen in betrayal, twenty thousand knights and men at arms of the empire supported by ten thousand Aachish mercenaries march against Maegwyn through King Hagar¡¯s Way. Delayed by rain, they will arrive within the month.


    Attaching the note to his loyal messenger, a pigeon kept well fed and safe from the rain within its cage, Roland sent it off into the gray sky. Slowly and methodically he took apart his camp, rolling up the animal hides and scattering the supple branches that had had supported them, before covering everything in a layer of dead leaves. An army that large and clearly as unprepared for the weather as it was would have foragers, and he could not risk a wayward scout discovering his camp, and therefore that word had gotten out to the Empress lest they proceed even more rapidly to the capital to take it unawares.


    Roland¡¯s heart felt pained as he considered the lonely hamlet of Melsbrook. It had been his home for the last ten years, ever since he was inserted there under the cover of being one of the many recently freed serfs following the Empress¡¯s abolishment of serfdom. They were good people, hardy and self sufficient living that they did so far from anything else, and they had taken kindly to a solitary hunter trying to eke out a living on the edge of society, as false as his identity may have been. With the Duke¡¯s army proceeding up the road, there was no chance they would overlook the hamlet, not with their utmost need to maintain secrecy. While Roland longed to warn the inhabitants, get as many of the people that had taken him in and supported him these past weary years out as possible, he couldn¡¯t risk the Duke realizing his plan had been laid bare. With a heavy heart Roland disappeared into the woods, not daring to look back at what had been his home, not even as the black clouds of smoke rose up into the darkening sky.

 Chapter One

    A quiet night stole upon the venerable sprawling city of Maegwyn like a thief, its twisting alleys and narrow defiles of aged and decrepit houses, long past their golden days of yore, becoming enshrouded by cold darkness. Far from the sleeping heart of the city, beyond even the outermost of the city¡¯s ancient battle scarred walls or the more recently erected earthworks, almost entirely eaten by the surrounding forest stood a manse, within which a lonely flickering light shone deep into the night. With proud, straight walls hewn of fine white stone, unblemished by the test of time with an aura of youthful vitality, the manse stood in stark contrast to the inevitable, creeping decay found in the rest of the city, the indifferent populace of the old elite long having squandered both coin and power.


    Inside that house a man sat, hunched over an array of reports, lists, and letters, bathing under the glow of a lamp.  Off to the side lay a detailed map, withered by time but clean and well cared for, covered in wooden tokens of various shapes and colors. The man was tall and well built, with solid muscle visible even under the cover of his thick woolen shirt. Rich in neither looks nor dress, he cut an odd figure living in such an opulent house, but it was only natural as this was no mere downtrodden noble, but the newly enfeoffed Lord Protector of the Empire, Nathaniel Pembroke.


    His eyes scoured the materials laid before him, brow crinkling and eyes narrowing as he read. The situation was an unmitigated disaster, he swore, the light cast by the solitary lantern fluttering wildly as his fist came down upon the desk with a loud bang, scattering papers and wooden tokens alike. It was bad enough that those brigands from Aachenwald had started raising a vast army, tens of thousands strong. While this was a threat to the empire, and an army far larger than any raised by the King of Aachenwald in recent memory, if that was all that had transpired most would have seen it as the King once more attempting to instill order and quell the internecine fighting ever present in his chaotic, fractious land. However this time, the King had decided to muster this army, not in the capital of his domain in Aachen a thousand miles away, but a mere dozen miles from the border of Albion.


    While possibly preempted by a recent peasant¡¯s revolt in that province, nonetheless that particular action had sparked outcry amongst the members of the Empress¡¯s privy council. Fearing the worst, a decision had been made to make a show of the Empire¡¯s power with a series of military exercises in the Duchy of Brackenweir, the stalwart defender of the Empire¡¯s border with Aachenwald. Two armies had been mustered for the exercises. The imperial first legion, normally headquartered in the capital of Brackenweir, Hundswick, and numbering ten thousand men, had safely made its way to the designated rendezvous point in Davenport.  Thereafter they had paraded through the city and encamped outside its walls awaiting the other. However, the army of the Duke of Brackenweir himself, representing the pride of the Duchy, with knights and men at arms marching under the banners of the Duke¡¯s sworn vassals, numbering almost twenty thousand men in all, had vanished without a trace.


    It was a travesty, nearly twenty thousand men gone, presumably destroyed by a superior enemy force so thoroughly that not a trace of either survivors or of the battlefield itself had been found. Couriers and scouts from the capital of Brackenweir had travelled along the planned route of the Duke¡¯s army and confirmed a complete lack of evidence that an army had been present on the route at all after it had departed the town of Glenn¡¯s Hollow near the Aachenwald border. These men hadn¡¯t been some hastily conscripted, ill disciplined band of peasants either, but the last survivors of the old ways, the Duke of Brackenweir and his vassals having survived the Empress¡¯s purges of the aristocracy some years prior with their legal right to maintain their large retinues of professional soldiers intact as a reward for siding with the Empress during the civil war to place her on the throne. The Duke¡¯s forces had, previously at least, been a stalwart shield against the ever present chaos threatening to overflow across the border from the tumultuous land of Aachenwald. Any force capable of so completely destroying such a large and capable army must be considerable, and the complete lack of any trace of battle hinted at something far worse, witchcraft.


    The empire of Albion itself had little need for witchcraft, its legion of well equipped and trained troops, well blooded during the civil war, enforced the Empress¡¯s will far more ably than any hermetic mystic or petty wandering conjurer, that made up the vast majority of the practitioners of the esoteric arts. Few were those capable of so completely removing all traces of a massive battle, and even fewer were those who would wield those powers in service to mere mortal men and their feeble ambitions. Any such beings would naturally demand high prices for their services, not those of mortal treasure or lands, but of precious reagents, rare and exotic imports, or for those of particularly dark inclination, human sacrifices ready for the slaughter.


    While the Empire of Albion may balk at the costs demanded by such creatures, and rest easily behind the assured security of its legions knowing it would never need their services, the fractious land of Aachenwald was another matter. In a vast land divided between thousands of bellicose princes in a perpetual struggle for power and security of their position, the practitioners of the esoteric arts could often find an eager patron no matter how detestable they might seem, although even then few amongst the princes possessed means enough to pay the price for their fell services.


    If the King Aachenwald truly had crossed the border, with armies reinforced with powerful magic no less, then the empire was truly in a state of crisis. Nathaniel thought of his last conversation with the Empress a week prior, recalling how he had watched her normally austere and indomitable expression break down after receiving the reports that her uncle had never reached his destination.


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    In a quiet, and more importantly private, palace chamber, bereft of windows and far from prying eyes stood the Empress. She was slender of build but tall of stature, with an exquisite face so fine that even the thick black veins radiating from her inhuman black eyes could not be considered to mar her body. Wise beyond mortal ken, with life experience of not less than fifty winters wizened by years of study and toil, her normally austere expression was fractured by grief revealing the youthful features of a woman of a mere twenty years. Her long, ashen hair hung low, half concealing her tear streaked face as she addressed the man kneeling before her, her voice barely kept level as she relayed her commands.


    ¡°Nathaniel, as you may have heard my uncle has vanished en route to Davenport along with his entire army. Given that he was dispatched with the intent to intimidate the King of Aachenwald into standing down, I can only assume that his army was waylaid by an invasion. However, there is some hope! No trace remains of either battle of army, so he must be alive, my uncle could never be laid so low by an ambush by those Aachish louts.¡± Her expression lightened as she spoke, almost convincing herself with her wild hopes.


    ¡°You must make haste if we are to find my uncle alive, take command of as many men as you can and scour Brackenweir end to end until you find him!¡± The Empress demanded, her face downcast and lips trembling with emotion.


    Nathaniel lay kneeling, not willing to meet the Empress¡¯s hopeful eyes, his expression conflicted and his heart full of sorrow as he pondered the task at hand, returning her to her senses.


    ¡°Your Majesty, we cannot send men out looking for your uncle, it is too dangerous! If no trace has been found of him, that could only mean there were no survivors of his battle. If I chase after the Duke I would need at least double his number to ensure the same tragedy does not befall my own men. The fifth and sixth legions combined number only forty thousand men, if I withdraw them both then the capital will be defenseless!¡± I countered, trying to restore her to reason as I reminded her of our grave situation.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°There has been no sign of conflict in Brackenweir itself, Your Majesty. If an Aachenish incursion had destroyed the Duke¡¯s forces and not gone on to pillage the Duchy, then their goal could only be to move towards Maegwyn. If you deprive this city of its only defenders, it won¡¯t be just the Duke that will perish, but you as well. We must wait for the arrival of the eastern legions before committing an army large enough to counter this invasion. I can¡¯t risk your safety for a dead man, please Your Majesty!¡± I begged her, pleading for her to put aside her attachments.


    The Empire could not afford to lose her, the only thing standing between the common people and a return to the old times where nothing could stop the depredations of the aristocracy. I became crestfallen as I saw my appeal to her reason had failed, her eyes growing colder as she peered down at me, the very air between us seeming to chill. A creeping frost spread on the ground beneath me, my breath showing as mist in the air between us and I knew I had incurred her displeasure.


    ¡°He. Is. Not. Dead!¡± The Empress screeched, abandoning her formerly even tone as she enunciated each word slowly and precisely, as if the arrogance of her defiant words could convince even the gods to bend reality to her will and ensure her uncle¡¯s survival.


    ¡°Forgive me Your Majesty, but even if by some miracle he is alive, if we send out the fifth and sixth legions to gallivant in the west, then you won¡¯t be! You are a scholar and a witch, not a general. There is no guarantee that the fifth and sixth legions will be able to meet this enemy in the field if you order them west, and if they don¡¯t and this enemy reaches Maegwyn, then we lack the means to hold the walls! I cannot in good conscience order the abandonment of the capital, not when it will mean death for you and the endangerment of every soul in this blighted city!¡± Struggling to maintain my subservient posture in the face of her crazed raving, my raised voice betrayed my anger at her short sightedness.


    ¡°How dare you ignore my orders you wretch! My uncle is invincible! He has stood at my side as steadfast general in the darkest of times, faced indomitable odds, and won for me my crown over the bodies of my insidious siblings in a war in which you were a mere captain. He will not have been destroyed by those lowly Aachish bandits no matter what you think.¡± She spat out venomously, entirely disregarding both my pleading and concern for her safety in her desire to see her uncle found safe. Her ire at my allegations of her unsuitability to be making these decisions undeniable as her formerly grieving expansion gave way to a mask of anger, the creeping frost on the ground beginning to sap the heat from my knee as I knelt.


    For the sake of your hitherto leal service you will not be punished, and if you are so worried about my safety then I permit you to personally stay behind and protect me. However, I will be finding someone else to command my legions in this search, and they will find my uncle, alive, no matter how many men it takes.¡±  Her tone took on a chillier, detached tone as she expressed her will with finality. She would brook no argument, expecting total obedience despite my reservations.


    ¡°If that is your will, Your Majesty.¡± I graciously bowed low, low enough so that she could not see my shameful face, ashen at my failure to bring her to her senses. She would only be roused to even more anger at my unrepentant look of ungracious defeat. I hastily departed, backing up to the door before shutting it behind me, keeping my head laid low all the while. I tried to ignore the loud sobs that emanated from the now shut door as I walked away, a faint echo of the phrase ¡®He can¡¯t be dead¡­¡¯ faintly audible in my head seemingly no matter how far away from the door I strode.


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    Her obstinance may have doomed them all, Nathaniel cursed as his eyes flicked to the reports from his last ditch effort to save the capital from an assuredly swift and brutal destruction. Seemingly endless rosters of names greeted his eyes as he picked up a page, listing names, age, occupation, and town of birth. It was a writ of conscription, every able bodied young man in the capital region having been deemed worthy of service in the Empress¡¯s Home Guard in the Empire¡¯s time of need. At tremendous expense, for the first time since the civil war, young men were compelled into service, equipped and trained for the sole purpose of defending the capital against sudden attack.


    It would take months for the eastern legions to be withdrawn from that far off frontier, and the cream of the Home Guard had been deployed to the likely hopeless search for the Duke of Brackenweir. For the foreseeable future, these hastily assembled peasants were all that stood between the capital and an almost inevitable assault by marauding Aachish bands.


    While equipment was relatively easy to secure, having looted the armories of the departing legions for surplus, their training was proceeding at a much more sedate pace. The peasants being farmers and the sons of artisans were neither skilled in the use of weapons nor disciplined and used to following commands. They were not the blooded veterans from the civil wars that formed the core of the current imperial legions, and they numbered no experienced hunters or other practitioners of the bow, for the forests of the capital region had long been tamed leaving naught but small stands and copses. They were the weak and soft hearted urbanites or small time farmers that had known only safety and security from the day they were born.


    To make matters worse, only a handful of drill masters remained, those few remaining having been hastily taken from the departing legions before they had reached the city walls. With the training proceeding so slowly only a few thousand peasants could be trained at a time, and even then could only be trained in the such simple weapons as the crossbow or spear. Even then, by the time of any future attack upon the capital, these peasants would never be more than rank amateurs, unworthy of the repossessed arms and armor that they now bore. They would never be able to take to the open field in conflict, and could only ever hope to stand atop the city walls, firing on an amassed enemy below them.


    Nathaniel¡¯s scattered thoughts were interrupted by a loud clattering from the knocker on the front door. Opening it, he squinted his eyes in the shadow of the night before spying a young man at his doorstep, nervously shifting his feet with eyes downcast, clad in the green livery of the Empress¡¯s courier service.


    ¡°I-I-I have a message for you sir, s-s-straight from the palace. S-s-sorry for waking you, m¡¯lord!¡± The young man stuttered out, terrified of having to interrupt a man of such high status as the Lord Protector in the middle of the night. Especially when the Lord Protector bore such a gaunt and haunted expression, eyes squinted and wrinkled from his activity at that late hour. His arms shook as he presented a scroll of parchment, sealed in wax pressed by the fiery crown of the Empress¡¯s own seal.


    ¡°Be at ease boy, I was already awake.¡± Nathaniel replied with a lazy wave of his hand, taking the parchment. Breaking the seal with a flick of his wrist, he read the message.


    Your presence is required. Immediately. The scroll had scrawled upon it, the crimson of its ink reinforcing the urgency of the summons. It was unlikely to be regarding any good news, not after how disastrously his last conversation with her had gone. Marshalling his courage to face her displeasure once more, he turned to the courier.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to need your horse.¡± Nathaniel demanded of the courier. Time was of the essence and his own carriage horses were much more suited for endurance than the swiftness endemic in the imperial courier breeds.


    ¡°Ah¡­ Of course sir, anything you need.¡± The courier said obediently, his face falling as he realized he would not be able to rest for some time yet. Stifling his concerns over having to walk back the long miles to the palace on foot at that late hour, he handed the reins to Nathaniel, daring not to get in the way of an order from the palace.


    ¡°Thank you boy, and here, for your troubles.¡± Nathaniel replied graciously with a smile of gratitude, pressing a gold coin into the courier¡¯s hand as he took the reins, much to the youth¡¯s delight. Stepping into the stirrups and climbing into the horse¡¯s saddle with some difficulty, being unaccustomed to riding as a mere veteran infantryman, he took off into the night towards the palace, ready to face whatever grave news had prompted the summons.

 Chapter Two

    Nathaniel held the reins of the courier horse tightly in a white knuckle grip as it galloped along the well travelled track to the main road. Bouncing to and fro from atop the saddle with knees already weak and failing to support his heavy body, he was immensely thankful for the earthen construction of the path that the great distance from the city had necessitated. He dreaded the sharp, repetitive shocks that were an inevitability on Maegwyn¡¯s hard, cobbled streets. His body was going to be painfully sore for a certainty the following morning.


    The crisp repetitive clattering sound of hoof on stone broke the spell of silence cast over the sleeping outer city. Its residents, primarily the laborers of the city lay sleeping in their ramshackle homes of timber and thatch. A general malaise had long fallen over what had been a once active underclass as their ranks were swelled by recently released serfs, following the Empress¡¯s abolishment of that evil custom, while the available work within the city dried up due to the majority of the city¡¯s affluent employers being stripped of their wealth outright or fleeing the city. Passing between decaying homes on the main thoroughfare to the city¡¯s curtain wall, the quiet seemed even deeper than usual, many of the indolent peasants having been conscripted into the growing ranks of the Home Guard.


    He eyed the lifeless collection of weathered shelters with some compassion. While the Empress had been the savior of many within the Empire with her general deposition of the oftentimes tyrannous nobility, not all had benefitted equally from her reforms. The Empress was more interested in breaking ground in far off lands that had hitherto been wild and unsettled than attracting new wealthy patrons to Maegwyn to spur its revival. The remaining peasants could only wait for the day that an imperial crier came to enlist settlers to settle in newly charted towns or hope for even the meagerest of employment from the artisans still left in the inner city. These people, already half abandoned by the Empire, would be the first casualties in the event of invasion. Their homes in the outer city lying far beyond the protective embrace of the city¡¯s curtain wall would likely be reduced to so much rubble in the event of an attack. The survivors, already impoverished, and in many cases starving, would be displaced, becoming a helpless band of refugees cast adrift in a bloody war.


    ¡°Halt! Who goes there at this benighted hour?¡± A voice rang out from above as Nathaniel approached the Eagle¡¯s Gate, the southern gate of the city¡¯s curtain wall. The voice was youthful but tired, clearly unused to the drudgery and long hours imposed upon the city¡¯s defenders.


    Looking up, Nathaniel saw the cleanly shaven face of the youth that had challenged his approach peering out from an aperture in the gatehouse tower. It was almost midnight, and the squat stone structure was only barely illuminated from within and from the feeble light cast by the flickering torches of those curious men patrolling atop the wall that had been drawn to the commotion. These were clearly newly inducted men of the Home Guard, inexperienced and poorly suited for guarding the gates of the city at night, being unable to even recognize the second most important man of the Empire.


    ¡°Look here you lout¡± Nathaniel answered back, impatient at the delay caused by their inexperience. Who else would be coming through to the inner city at this late hour when only just prior to his arrival they had let through the courier, on the very horse Nathaniel now rode, bound for his manse. Inwardly grumbling, he proffered his right hand towards the sentry now leaning down from the tower, the burning crown of the Empress imposed upon the gripped sword of the Lord Protector emblazoned upon its face, the mark of his rank.


    ¡°Ah¡­ No offense m¡¯lord. Open the gate for the Lord Protector!¡± The sentry cried, ordering the gate to be opened, before bowing low in apology.


    Nathaniel gave the mad a curt nod as the wooden gate swung wide, allowing him into the inner city. At least the watchmen hadn¡¯t been so untrained as to be unable to recognize his badge of office. Perhaps in several months time, if they survived that long, they would even reach half the level of competence demanded by the imperial legions, he though with a wry grin. On second thought, if this was the level of the city watchmen the defense of the city and its inhabitants will be trying indeed, his expression sobered at the idea.


    In sharp contrast to the dead quiet of the outer city, the inner city was teeming with life even into this late hour. While most shutters were closed to preserve heat in the chill autumn weather, a faint glow emanated from dozens of buildings alongside the main road, catching on the drifting smoke in the air spat by dozens of forges and kilns. Being largely populated by skilled artisans, merchants, imperial functionaries, and the various apprentices of each it had weathered the economic hardships brought on by the Empress¡¯s ascension with far greater alacrity than the common laborers of the outer city. A few groups, namely those merchant dealers in luxury goods and the likes of silver or goldsmiths, had seen a marked reduction in clientele following the general disempowerment of the nobility, with many abandoning the city for greener pastures elsewhere. However, the majority of the inner city¡¯s populace had always been blacksmiths, ironmongers, tanners, and other such practical trades that had found new patronage supplying the endlessly ravenous imperial legions.


    Fighting through the chokingly thick smoke spat from the combined industrial emanations of the city, Nathaniel finally reached the foot of the Palatial Hill, upon which the city¡¯s inner wall lay, marking the division between the inner and upper city. While a gatehouse did exist dividing the two parts of the city, the gate was locked upon and the gatehouse unmanned except in times of enemy attack. Not that there was anything in the upper city worthy of stealing anymore, he thought with a snort as his horse began climbing the hill.


    The upper city was built around the Palatial Hill in a spiraling pattern, ascending the hill with gradual incline as the road gently corkscrewed to the summit. As the horse climbed, the sound of toil so present in the inner city faded away to be replaced by deathly quiet. In contrast to the outer city that was merely sleeping or disinterested, the upper city held a perpetual aura of quiet gloom even into the day. Stifling the feelings of unease that had always made themselves apparent when he passed through on his way to the palace, Nathaniel rode on, passing by row after row of the dreary, decrepit shells of townhouses and mansions that had once been a sight of splendor. The dwellings of the fallen nobility that had once resided in the capital, exerting so much influence in both the court and the vitality of the city, now law dormant, their decay husks more diminished every year from the changing of the seasons as they fractured and crumbled to dust.


    Despite the return to stability of the Empire in the wake of the ascension of the Empress, all but a scant few of these great houses had been left abandoned. The dread atmosphere of the upper city, carefully cultivated during the time of the purges of the aristocracy discouraged all but the most stout hearted of the newly wealthy. Here and there, unblinking eyes stared out from within the shadowed confines of crumbling homes, squatters taking advantage of the unfortunate circumstances that had befallen previous occupants to secure a more structurally sound, if slowly decaying none the less, home than the ramshackle abodes of the outer city. Oftentimes the crumbling ruins served well to conceal their shady dealings or serve as inconspicuous store rooms for goods of dubious legality. Occasionally, when their presence so close to the palace grew too much to bear, the Home Guard would root them out, with the club when granting mercy, and the sword when not. For the most part however, the squatters were left alone, the Empress finding great humor in the defilement of the seats of power of her vanquished foes at the hands of the vermin of society. Riding out of the deathly quiet of an abandoned square, Nathaniel finally reached the crest of the hill and the imposing palace that lay atop it.


    Built from stone excavated from dozens of quarries throughout the Empire, the palace resembled a patchwork quilt of mismatched colored stone. Designed as both functional seat of governance and nigh unassailable fortress in equal measure, the palace contained an imposing outer wall looming high over the rest of the city interspersed with crenellated towers and covered with ramparts granting a commanding view of not only the city itself, but also the network of farmland and pastures radiating outwards from the city far into the horizon. Contained within the palace wall were dozens of interconnected buildings consisting of audience chambers, offices, barracks, servants quarters, store rooms, anything and everything to achieve its purpose as both military base and center of administration.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    At the center of the maze of buildings stood two great structures. The first was the palace keep, a squat, functional fortification built atop the underground cisterns and store rooms that housed provisions enough to provide the defenders of the city with food and water for up to a full year under siege. It¡¯s thick stone bulk was heavily reinforced with supporting timber and entirety of the fortress was ringed with arrow slits and murder holes granting it an intimidating aura that in times of conflict would strike fear into the hearts of all those intent on conquering it. The roof of the keep was bare and flat, featureless save for crenellated walls and a bridge connecting to the other great structure, the Spire.


    Built at the pinnacle of a small plateau divided from the rest of the Palatial Hill by a series of deep ravines worn away in ages past by a raging river, that flows through them to this day acting as a natural moat, the Spire rose up, seemingly impossibly high into the sky for the stonework of mere mortal men. It¡¯s graceful twisting patterns of cut stone spiraling up its outer edge lent it an otherworldly appearance. It was home to the personal rooms of the Empress, along with a vast repository of accumulated knowledge the content of which even the Lord Protector remained ignorant of.


    Finding the guards of the palace gates far more competent and alert than the feeble boys at the Eagle¡¯s Gate, Nathaniel pulled through and into the palace without a word, merely offering a nod of respect at the men as he passed through. Their competence was hardly surprising as the famed Empress¡¯s Shield were the only men allowed to man the walls of the palace and guarantee the safety of the Empress. A steward awaited him at the inside of the gate. He was an older man, clothed in a neutral grey and brown cloth the style of which was popular among the imperial administrators, possessing a calm demeanor. Despite his passivity, a trace of sweat on his faintly trembling brow reflected his inner turmoil. It would appear that whatever had prompted the summons was a rather grave matter indeed.


    ¡°Her Majesty, the Empress awaits your presence m¡¯lord¡­ In the Spire.¡± The steward spoke carefully, emphasizing the location as Nathaniel¡¯s face scrunched up in an expression of utter bewilderment.


    He had never stepped foot inside the spire before, his secret conversations with the Empress being such that the isolated windowless chamber tucked away, deep within the palace was sufficient enough security. The only ones allowed within the Spire were the Empress¡¯s personal handmaidens, and a few select individuals specifically at her invitation, namely her uncle or the occasional reclusive scholar. To be summoned to her very bedchambers, the situation must be absolutely dire, Nathaniel mused.


    ¡°I¡¯ll guide you.¡± The steward said with a practiced bow, leading Nathaniel on through the twisting corridors to the very heart of the palace until he stopped at the base of the bridge spanning across to the Spire, turning to him.


    ¡°I can go no further, you must cross on your own m¡¯lord.¡± With another bow the steward departed, gesturing for Nathaniel to cross the bridge.


    He replied with an affirmative nod of his head, before stepping onto the bridge. Immediately upon standing atop the bridge. He felt the already chill temperature of the air plummet yet further, swift winds rising from the yawning chasm below and blowing with force across the length of the bridge.


    Nathaniel wrapped his arms around himself to combat the frigid wind as he struggled his way across. As the buffeting wind pulled against his body with considerable force he struggled, grabbing ahold of the bridge¡¯s firm stone railing to brace himself. He made the mistake of looking down as he grasped the railing. A seemingly endless channel of weather worn stone extended near vertically down the ravine, with a raging, roiling mass of churning water far, far below that was dizzying to look upon, overcoming his senses with intense feelings of vertigo.


    It would be so very easy to fall here he thought, his body plunging into the depths, surely to be dashed against the rocks as he was overcome by the current. He felt oddly drawn in, as if he was called to gaze upon the depths, even as his senses were plagued with dizziness. Before his wayward thoughts could progress further, the wind intensified, all but throwing him back away from the railing for his act of hubris in gazing into the abyss. Still painfully chilled and clutching his madly beating heart, he staggered his way slowly and carefully the rest of the way to the Spire. Whereupon the other side he collapsed into a heap on the wide balcony to which the bridge connected, struggling to regain his breath.


    Having never before been to the Spire, he had previously held some amount of curiosity regarding what went on within and what was held inside. However, after his ordeal crossing that blighted bridge across the chasm his former curiosity had drained out of him. The only feeling that remained was the desire to finish his audience as quickly as possible so that he may leave the heights, hopefully never to return. The entrance door upon the balcony suddenly opened, startling Nathaniel enough that he jumped up with a start.


    ¡°Easy there m¡¯lord, Her Majesty wouldn¡¯t want her Lord Protector dying of fright so soon after his tumble on the bridge.¡± Jested a feminine voice lightly, not bothering to conceal her mirth at his misfortune.


    Nathanie¡¯s ears burned red with embarrassment, to have stumbled to his near death attempting to cross a simple bridge was foolish enough, but to have done so in clear view of a mere servant¡­ Perhaps it would have been better if he had just fallen over the railing instead, troubles of the Empire be damned.


    ¡°Never mind that, I have an audience with Her Majesty.¡± Nathaniel stated, his somewhat eager voice betraying the racing of his heart from his near death experience.


    He did not deign to rebuke the insolent servant for her mockery, the Empress¡¯s personal handmaidens were all highly trusted individuals that, in her eyes at least, were only somewhat below the members of her privy council in terms of rank no matter what the general populace¡¯s views of them were. The woman, of aged appearance but still possessing youthful vigor, beckoned for him to follow along with her hand.


    ¡°Come along then, Her Majesty is waiting.¡± She said with a hint of impatience as Nathaniel groggily followed her inside the Spire, his head still spinning from the intense vertigo of the bridge.


    Inside the tower, his eyes were met by a narrow corridor winding its way along the edge of the tower, a twisting staircase accompanying it as it spun upwards. Shut, evenly spaced doors were embedded in the wall at the center of the tower going all the way around. Above each door was a wooden nameplate, but whose labels were scrawled in no language he knew, consisting of seemingly random numbers and letters. This must be the Empress¡¯s repository he mused, but the gods only know what is actually stored behind those doors. Tearing his gaze away from the mysterious doors he followed his guide, ascending the spiraling staircase as it crawled up the inside of the tower.


    With every new floor ascended, the air seemed to get colder and colder, the wind howling outside increasing in volume as heard through the thin slits in the wall that served as the daytime lighting for the tower. Tapestries, which had been scarce near the entrance became more common as the he ascended until they almost completely blanketed the bare stone walls. Of chaotic design with seemingly no thought given to commonalities in the selection as a whole, they coated the walls in what must have been the work of hundreds of seamstresses. For all that, it seemed to have done little to retain heat, as by the time he reached the top floor frost covered the walls and floor, a freezing wind blowing through the openings of the tower like a gale.


    ¡°The Empress is ready to receive you, m¡¯lord.¡± The handmaiden said, bowing lightly to Nathaniel before departing back down the stairs at a seemingly reckless pace.


    He wondered why she would depart so suddenly when he heard a loud crash. His gaze instantly humped to the sole, solitary door at the end of the antechamber in which he now found himself. Whatever that sound was, it was coming from the Empress¡¯s bed chambers. He braced himself, mentally preparing for what she may have to say to him. He did not want to provoke her ire, and he was well aware he was already in her bad graces from their last meeting. As he was gathering his wits and courage, another crash bellowed from beyond the door, the thick oak planks of its construction vibrating violently with the intensity of the crash. Alarmed, Nathaniel forsook his preparations, grasping a frost encrusted door handle and wresting it open with a sharp tug.

 Chapter Three

    Nathaniel stood aghast as he swung the door wide, revealing a sight of utter devastation. What had once been a lavish sitting room of richly finished wooden furniture, tastefully collected and exquisitely crafted paintings, and luxuriously soft and warm plush carpets, was now almost impossible to recognize as such. The paintings had been torn from the walls in a violent frenzy, the glass frames protecting them having shattered scattering wickedly sharp fragments of glass into the fibers of the carpet. The paintings themselves had been torn out of their broken frames, the canvas rent asunder by what could only have been the work of vicious hands as evidenced by the droplets of fresh blood indifferently coating the tattered remains of both glass and canvas. Fractured furniture lay about the room in so many pieces.


    In one corner, a half torn chair with cracked legs and missing a back rested, having clearly been swung with vindictive force against the uncaring stone of the wall. Over the carpet, the shattered remains of a wooden table lay limply, the massive slab of polished mahogany that had served as the tabletop having been roughly cracked in two by what must have been great force from above, the two halves of the table sagging down into the carpet. The fine felt of a series of sofas had been ripped and torn with wild abandon, bearing tear marks both from the flying glass shards or wooden splinters that peppered the lining and much deeper furrows, stained scarlet by blood, of what could only have been the work of human nails. White cotton stuffing was ripped out, dyed red with gobs of yet more blood and strewn about the room haphazardly like a coating of plush red snow. Over everything, a layer of chill frost clung, sapping the heat from Nathaniel¡¯s lungs as his breath became mist in the air.


    In one corner of the room, the terror herself stood, one hand clutching a detached chair leg, presumably the companion to the remains of the chair that had been hurled against the door just prior to his arrival. Her face was contorted in an expression of rage, her skin dyed red and a visibly throbbing vein atop her forehead. Her hair was rough and frazzled, its formerly luxuriously smooth strands becoming tangled with sticky sweat. Her eyes were dilated, seemingly unable to focus on Nathaniel at all as they darted madly looking from one end of the destroyed room to the other. She wore a simple gray robe, now torn and split, covered in the debris borne from her frenzy and stained with fresh blood. Her hands were dry and cracked with many of her nails torn out, covered with dozens of tiny cuts, still oozing blood and dripping down onto her robe. He noticed that she wore no shoes, her feet awash with yet more blood, sharp fragments of glass and wooden splinters still embedded in her parched flesh. It was apparent she had cared naught for her own well being while prosecuting this vicious rampage, Nathaniel noted, his expression turning grim.


    ¡°What in the name of the gods are you doing, Your Majesty?¡± He cried aloud at seeing her pathetic state. The crazed creature that was the Empress spun to face him as he spoke, her eyes still unfocused, clearly reacting more from animalistic instinct than human intelligence. However, she seemed to calm somewhat as he spoke, perhaps reassured by his presence as requested, her ragged breathing slowing down.


    ¡°Is that you Nathaniel? Have you finally come to help me clean these odious rooms of mine? I¡¯ve been waiting so long you know, and this is such toilsome work¡­¡± She asked nonchalantly, her unfocused feverish eyes reflecting the dim light of the chamber with intensity.


    Her voice trailed off, clearly expecting an enthusiastic cry of support from the Lord Protector that was not forthcoming. Her lips started to curl into a snarl as the silence stretched with no affirmation from Nathaniel. He recoiled, unnerved by her mundane reaction to his cautious probing and doubly so by the speed at which her mood shifted as he diverged from her expectations.


    ¡°You¡¯ll find what you seek there.¡± She finally answered his original question with an angry, terse reply. Her hand waved in a dismissive gesture, pointing to the far corner of the room by the door to the rest of her chambers where a solitary wooden writing desk stood, seemingly untouched by her gale of destruction.


    Upon the desk lay a flickering lamp, by some miracle not turned over by the relentless crashing violence around it. Illuminated by the lantern was an unfurled scroll, held open by a dagger impaling the parchment deeply into the desktop. Nathaniel cautiously walked over to the table, rubble crunching loudly beneath his boots as he crossed the room. He scanned the parchment over, a report from some manner of spy, the ink on the page was smudged and running from dozens of wet droplets that had soaked into the page, tears.


    The brief message was instantly digested and already beginning to turn in his mind. His eyes narrowed as he felt the implications, his body trembling in shock, a hand roughly grasped his heart as he fought to contain its wild throbbing. Betrayal! Not just any traitor either, not the dozens of petty nobles that had tried and failed to defy the Empress and Empire with varying degrees of incompetence, but the Duke of Brackenweir! The Empress¡¯s uncle, who had stood by her side through all manners of trials, as the Empire burned around them, as her siblings turned their swords to her heart, as even her very people rose up against her. The situation was dire he realized in a flash, his eyes taking stock of the Empress. The situation was dire, and unless she was brought back to her senses, it could not be dealt with.


    ¡°I understand your anger, Your Majesty¡­ But I¡¯m not certain you are in any state for us to address it. Please, just put the stick down and let¡¯s lie you down¡­ preferably somewhere still intact.¡± He spoke placatingly to try and assuage her anger.


    While he could now at least understand to a degree why she was so wrathful, he knew naught why it had affected her normally stoic and wise mind to such a great degree. Lacking the ability to truly understand, he could only offer his arm to support her. If he could set her down, he could at least work on what he did understand, her wounds. Hopefully not every room in her chambers had been beset by such utter devastation.


    ¡°No! I must destroy. Every. Last. Piece. Every gift, every recommendation, every compliment. Nothing tainted by his traitorous hand shall remain!¡± She shrieked, aggrieved, firmly clutching the dismembered chair leg to her chest. She stepped back from his offered arm, ignoring the stinging pain and trailing blood from the wounds on her feet, clearly unwilling to be taken from the room.


    ¡°Is this¡­ not destroyed enough? But if it is what you desire¡­ Please Your Majesty, just stay right there, I will call for one of your handmaidens.¡± Nathaniel replied, to her outburst, his face donning a look of sheer incredulity.


    The damage to the room already must have totaled into the tens of thousands of crowns, and yet she was still unsatisfied? While he understood that she was angry, and obsessed with destruction, this was too far. She needed help, someone to calm her down and dress her wounds. Nathaniel was a wise and experienced man, a general, a lord even. He was comfortable with assuming control and directing men numbering in the hundreds of thousands, but he was no physician of the mind. Surely no other than her handmaidens, her trusted servants, and more importantly fellow women who may be able to understand her and address the crux of her turmoil, would be what she required to rouse her mind. Just as he was backing away, attempting to beat a quick retreat to fetch one of the Empress¡¯s handmaidens and make the incensed woman her problem, he felt the chill wind brush against his face as the chair leg formerly brandished by the Empress passed mere inches from his face, firmly impacting upon the closed door.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Stop right there you ungrateful bastard. It was you I called for to help me deal with this disaster. Not for you to pawn your oath sworn duties off to my maids!¡± Her already wrathful face contorted further casting a wicked glare directed at Nathaniel. His heart catching in his throat from the close call with the chair leg and now her evil gaze directed at none other than himself, he unconsciously took a step back. His timidity clearly displeased her, and he saw her sifting through the debris for another weapon.


    ¡°Please Your Majesty, will you see no reason? You are unwell, overcome by anger and destroying your own possessions with wild abandon even as your body is ripped to pieces, its lifesblood draining with every act. You must put aside your anger for now and take hold of yourself!¡± He pleaded with her, begging for her to cease her self destructive rampage. Merely antagonized by his outright refusal to help, to understand her pain, her expression hardened and this time it was no mere makeshift missile scavenged from destroyed furniture she wielded, but an icicle, its point wickedly sharp and gleaming in the dim light.


    Nathaniel¡¯s eyes widened, his shock at the Empress¡¯s apparent state of mania giving way to fear as her sudden escalation threatened his very life. With every instinct in his body screaming for flight in the face of this imminent peril, he dove to the side. Flung with unnatural swiftness far faster than the meagerly muscled arms of the Empress could possibly have accomplished, the icicle flew through where he had been standing mere moments before, shattering on impact with the stone wall behind him. Having rolled through the debris on the ground, and now been showered by unnaturally cold shards of ice, he felt the heat in his body being sapped at a dangerous pace.


    He had never before seen her so enraged, willing to take out her anger on even the closest of her advisors. Looking back to his past experiences, from back when he was a mere captain in her service during the civil war, she would never have even thought to lash out physically against her followers, even after suffering some of her bitterest defeats. No wonder the handmaiden that had guided his way up the Spire had made such a hasty retreat after their arrival. He knew she had been tightly knit with her uncle, but her current rage was on another level. He had personally attended the Empress¡¯s execution of her elder sister, heard the woman¡¯s desperate pleading and begging for her life, the snot and tears running down her face in a disgraceful display before the headsman¡¯s axe had silenced her for good. The Empress had not even batted an eyelash of the sight. This degree of hatred was toxic, poisoning her from the inside as she ineffectually attempted to quell it, not by focusing on the root cause productively, but by lashing out at anything that even reminded her of her object of hatred. It seems it would be up to him to snap her out of her manic fugue, much to his chagrin.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you just¡­ help me?! No trace of that man must be allowed to survive, I shall not abide it!¡± She cried out, entirely given over to rage as she conjured another icicle with a flourish of her hand.


    ¡°Your Majesty, please forgive me for the presumption¡­¡± With an exasperated sight, Nathaniel squared his shoulders and prepared to charge.


    The foolish Empress had decided to play with fire as she brandished deadly weapons towards her own servants, and it had fallen to him, as her most impeccably royal retainer of course, to teach her that fire burned. Nathaniel began to run, his feet finding easy traction on the scattered debris of the floor despite its icy coating, his body kept low to minimize the target he presented. So swiftly did he move, that the Empress, eyes wide in surprise, failed to make her attack before his heavily muscled bulk caught her by the waste and tackled her to the ground. Mercifully, she had already been standing at the edge of the disaster zone, and the tumble had merely knocked the wind from her lungs instead of falling hard against the debris strewn about the floor.


    ¡°Is this how you want to take your revenge against your uncle you fool? Locked away in this glorified prison of a tower, terrorizing your servants, tearing yourself apart impotently destroying mere objects while the world burns around you?¡± Pinning her to the floor with his body, Nathaniel shook her shoulders, desperate to get his message through her impressively thick skull.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t¡­¡± She started mumbling, her expression of blind rage subsiding into one of sorrow as she sobbed in his arms. Nathaniel, knowing the Empress would only seldom choose to display emotion, preferring solitude to overcome her inner turmoil over the support of others, felt out of place and unsure of the appropriate way to comfort her.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get your revenge, Your Majesty, I will personally ensure it. Remember, you aren¡¯t the only one that your uncle has betrayed with his reckless actions. But¡­ your people need you to weather this storm, and you need to be strong for that.¡± His mind, caught off guard by her unexpected moment of weakness, settled on reminding her of her duties to her people. Hopefully, his promise to help her in her inevitable quest for revenge had not fallen on deaf ears. Her crying ceased as she digested his words, her hazy eyes starting to refocus on his face looming just above hers. Her sorrowful expression collapsed into a careful crafted mask of neutrality, her lips drawn in a thin line. It seemed that she had returned to her senses at last.


    ¡°Nathaniel?¡± The Empress inquired, her voice sickeningly sweet, her face a mask from which no emotion could escape.


    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty?¡± He responded, carefully ignoring her sweet tone, his voice hearty with his lightened mood as he saw that he had chosen the correct path to bring her back, despite the¡­ affronts to the Empress¡¯s dignity.


    ¡°Get off of me.¡± Her neutral voice became vaguely threatening as she became aware of their positioning.


    ¡°Of course, Your Majesty!¡± Sensing danger, far more so than when her anger addled mind had merely tried to skewer him with an icicle, he jumped right up. Never before in his life had he obeyed an order so quickly, shooting to his feet like an arrow. The Empress got to her feet far more leisurely, wincing as she put weight on her feet.


    ¡°Shall I call for one of your handmaidens now?¡± He asked, glad that she may finally be amenable to receiving medical attention. Given the contents of that message, it would be a disaster if, in the final hour, she succumbed to an infection.


    ¡°No you fool, none shall see me so weak. I do have a reputation to uphold. Although at this point it is likely a lost cause in your case. Just help me to the reading room next door, the chairs in there should still be intact.¡± An uncharacteristic smile graced her pleasant face as she pointed at the unblemished door on the far side of the room, well away from the destruction.


    ¡°I know naught what you mean, Your Majesty. You were truly fearsome when you almost skewered me with an icicle four feet long.¡± Nathaniel offered his arm to the Empress to lean on as he helped her limp to the adjacent reading room.


    He very carefully did not comment as, barely perceptible, he heard her mutter, ¡°I knew you would dodge it.¡± The gods only knew what she would do if she knew that he had heard her professing her weakness openly. Making sure to kick away the debris from the floor, he carved a path through the mess guiding the Empress behind him into the next room.

 Chapter Four

    Contrary to the rather quaint image that the title of ¡®reading room¡¯ may conjure up, perhaps that of a simple nook with a bookshelf and lounging chair, the Empress¡¯s variation of the concept was rather grand. A great space, far too large to be deemed a simple ¡®room¡¯, stretched almost the entire diameter of the tower, a distance that would normally have been reserved for that of five or six more typically sized rooms. It was filled with seemingly endless rows of bookshelves upon bookshelves, stretching high almost to the ceiling, resembling more that of a small library than a space for any manner of personal use. The shelves themselves were lined with books in a chaotic manner, thrown in haphazardly without any regard to order, presumably the remains of the Empress¡¯s scholarly research material.


    To the left of the door, several large windows were cut into the wall, each having a luxuriously plush sofa or velvet lined arm rested chair beneath. The portals were constructed of thick, durable, barely warped glass, clearly the work of some master of their craft, in great contrast to the generally small and uncovered slits used for light in the lower portions of the Spire. Some measure of protection for the books, he supposed, given the general frosty atmosphere seemingly preferred by the Empress in all other places. The great size of the windows was also unusual, likely deemed high enough in the tower to be out of feasible range of battle. They were dark now, filled with the inky blackness of the long night stretching over the rest of the city, but surely during the day they must bathe the room in exorbitant amounts of light.


    Nathaniel staggered over to a nearby sofa, the weary Empress limping behind him leaning on his shoulder. With one hand he removed his coat, an absolute necessity in the brisk autumn night, and placed it over the couch, carefully not to bother the woman still leaning on his shoulder. It would not do to mar this hitherto untouched room with blood after all. From the state of the wide table at the foot of the sofa, covered in all manner of dusty tomes with scattered note filled pages poking out of shut covers, it was clearly much beloved.


    ¡°Here, why don¡¯t you set yourself down, Your Majesty? I will return shortly with cloth and alcohol. I may be no physician, but I am at least capable of dressing the cuts on your hands. The puncture wounds, however, may be rather¡­ difficult.¡± Placatingly, he helped her settle down in the chair, careful not to cause undue stress upon the dozens of wounds across her body.


    Her hands had some serrations and splinters, but for the most part they could be dressed by the application of alcohol and the pressure applied from a bandage. The wounds on her feet however¡­ He looked down at her bloody feet. Her rage fueled rampage had seen numerous shards of glass and wooden splinters drive themselves deeply into her soles, as if she had no care for pain or damage. Being so deeply embedded into the muscle, it was unlikely she would ever be able to walk properly again. His face grimaced at the thought. The Empress¡¯s privy council, and worse, her handmaidens, would not be pleased to learn the Empress had crippled herself while under his eye. With a sigh, he stood up, intent on at least rendering what little aid he was able. Surely her handmaidens would have bolts of cloth enough to at least stem the bleeding.


    ¡°That will not be necessary Nathaniel. I have constitution enough to not require alcohol quite yet, just remove the glass. Do start with my hands, I find them too weak to remove it myself.¡± Unexpectedly her calm voice came out, crashing over his thoughts of regret as she extended a shaky, bleeding hand towards him.


    He frowned, unsure of whether she was actually aware of the severity of her injuries. While she was a learned scholar, far more so than himself at the very least, he had not known her to have a medical inclination. Seldom appearing within a dozen leagues of actual battlefields, he felt sure that, at the very least, she was inexperienced in matters of grave, permanently debilitating wounds. However, as much as he may inwardly complain and doubt her conviction, he relented and took her blood smeared hand in his, delicately picking out small shards of glass with his fingers.


    Thankfully, there was little in the way of glass left in her hands from her previous acts. Despite having crushed and torn glass frames with her bare hands, somehow it seemed very little had actually succeeded in lodging itself within her wounds. His deft hands, somewhat practiced in the art of removing shrapnel on the battlefield, moved quickly in removing the shards. Lost in his work, he completed extracting the offending material from her entire right hand before he noticed anything unusual.


    Giving her right hand a quick glance over as he finished, it seemed that there were somehow fewer cuts on her hands than when he had started. Perhaps the blood had made it seem like she was more severely injured than she in actuality was. Shaking his head at his evidently poor skills of observation, he set to work on her left hand. With actions more confident, having renewed his rusty skills from the battlefield, he completely removed the glass from her left hand in a flash. Satisfied with his work on her hands, he took an appraising look at the Empress before being struck dumb with shock. She was splaying the fingers on her right hand, now immaculately untainted by the ugly red lines that had crisscrossed her skin only just prior.


    ¡°Your Majesty¡­ What is this?¡± He asked, in awe at her apparent rapidity of recovery. He did know she was a witch of some kind, the black veins emanating from the unnaturally dark eyes of her witch mark had made that much rather obvious. But he himself was far from knowledgeable about the esoteric arts, and had never personally seen her utilize them to conjure anything more significant than the feeble parlor tricks so commonly held as elaborate spells by her lessers.


    ¡°Are you surprised? I am a witch after all. While I suppose I haven¡¯t made much of a practice at using my works in battle, surely you hadn¡¯t thought my youthfulness was something just any petty conjuror could maintain?¡± The Empress was just as shocked as Nathaniel, but in her case in regards to his astounding ignorance.


    While the Empire made no practice of utilizing practitioners of the esoteric arts in its legions, they had been seen from time to time during the civil war among the ranks of her enemies. None so powerful or learned as her of course, but they were present nonetheless. Furthermore, many of the scholars she had invited to stay in Maegwyn and collaborate in the Spire had themselves been practitioners. For one in such a lofty position as he, it was unfitting to be so ignorant of the arts employed by their enemies, let alone to be so ignorant of those practiced by his very sovereign.


    ¡°Whatever you may have thought regarding that gaggle of halfwits that give my kind such a black reputation in Aachenwald, I assure you that there are those of us with significantly more ability. Likewise to be entirely honest, I¡¯m not entirely sure that I even count as human anymore, not after all of the delicate craft I have carved into this body of mine.¡± She said nonchalantly, leaning down with her now unblemished hands to start prying loose the shrapnel embedded in her feet.


    Nathaniel pondered her confession in silence. While he was well aware that she seemed to age at an extraordinarily slow pace, he had heard stories of some avowed sorcerers, living hermetic lives secluded from society, that had lived well past one hundred years. Since he had known the Empress for at least twenty years, closer to thirty if counting his sightings of her at her very occasional public appearances under the old regime, it had seemed that she had, truthfully, not appeared to have aged a day in all that time. The feat did, in retrospect, seem rather inhuman.


    ¡°Surely you aren¡¯t saying that you are truly ageless, Your Majesty? If such a thing were possible, the world would be beset by the everlasting rule of eternal kings.¡± Nathaniel asked cautiously, the gears turning in his mind over the implications of her statements.


    It would explain her seeming preference for wide sweeping and long lived reforms even at the cost of short term suffering at least. His mind turned to the inhabitants of the capital¡¯s outer city, wasting away with no work as their homes crumbled about them, counting their days until a representative of the Empress would come to take them away and settle new lands. If she would live as long as she implied, then the downtrodden peasantry, suffering from her chaotic upheaval of the existing social order without relief in sight, would be dead and buried long before her long term objectives were met. They would be succeeded by their descendants, reaching maturity in a time that had only known the fruits of the Empress¡¯s reforms and never knowing the price. In light of her revelations, all of the policies she had enacted since seizing the crown came into perspective. While a perhaps logical approach, her actions seemed decidedly inhuman, only possible due to a supernatural longevity.


    ¡°It is a rare working. Few have the constitution or mental ability to even attempt it. Even fewer are the mortal kings possessing the mentality or time to devote themselves to accomplishing what I have when they are saddled with the taxing responsibility of ruling a nation, no matter how obsessed they are with the idea of immortality. Surely, you have heard the myths of kings, insistent that they will never die, sequestering themselves to engage in study. Such things never last, whether it is improper learning or inability to acquire reagents, they are always too slow, and circled by the waiting vipers of their court, they are always torn from their position and any hope at completing their work. It was by sheer chance that I was able to find the notes of a predecessor, tucked away in a forgotten room in the palace library. As the youngest and least of my siblings, little was expected of me and I was able to devote my time to my great working, and eventually I succeeded.¡± She spoke assuredly, evidently having given much thought and done much research into the frenetic race for immortality performed by rulers fearful of death, in which all are made equal, since time immemorial.


    ¡°The price is also¡­ demanding. While many practitioners of the esoteric arts may remove themselves from society, few have the will to face the progress of time on everything else but themselves. To watch their loved ones, their entire family lines sometimes, even the very walls of their homes and the trees of the forests in which they hide away, wither away and crumble to dust before their very eyes. There is a reason that I have pursued neither consort nor offspring and secluded myself away from everything but my responsibilities to my people as the head of state in this lonely tower. The only one I have been particularly close to in all my long years of life, and likely many many more long years, was my uncle, and well¡­¡± Her voice turned melancholic as she considered the price of the things she had given up on her path to pursue her longevity, almost sobbing as her thoughts turned to her uncle.


    ¡°I¡­ I had no idea, Your Majesty.¡± Nathaniel¡¯s jovial relief at the marked recovery of the Empress from her grisly wounds, especially not having to explain his lacking abilities in stopping her from hurting herself, became sober as he was hit by a wave of understanding.


    She was not close to her uncle because of simple familial ties, or even that he had stood by her in all of her times of need before. No, she was close to her uncle because he was one of the few connections that she had allowed herself, a being that due to necessity rebuffed all that may try to grow closer, treating them with cold indifference. For her uncle to die and leave her alone, she had certainly already been mentally prepared for. He was already in his late seventies and still active in both governance and military matters. It would have been a surprise to no one for him to succumb to illness at any point, no matter the vitality he was known for in his twilight years.


    But to find out that her uncle, the sole human being she had allowed herself to get close to, was not dead, but had betrayed her? That must have hated her? That may have been acting as her close confident for all of her long years, only sharpening the dagger behind her back, biding his time, all of his love and affection being lies? She was devastated.


    ¡°I will stand by my oath, Your Majesty. You will get your revenge.¡± Tamping down his guilt over lack of understanding of his sovereign¡¯s feelings regarding her uncle, his mind once more decided to tread safer waters by swaying the conversation back to their shared dire circumstances.


    ¡°You better you layabout. Just last week you failed to convince me to amass my armies in Maegwyn, and let me order them to march with haste to the Duchy of Brackenweir. With the Duke himself revolting against me, I have no doubt that the Duchy will strike against both our men already deployed to Brackenweir, and the two legions sent to search for the Duke. They will not receive the news of our plight in time to help defend the capital, and all the while you have been sitting idly by trying to organize a smattering of green boys to defend us as if they would stand a ghost of a chance against an Aachish invasion.¡± Her words of criticism were harsh, clearly ignoring that their dire straits were, at least in part, the result of her unreasonable demands. As Nathaniel tried to defend himself, he was stopped by her raising her hand in a motion for him to settle down.Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°Stop right there you fool. Yes, I was obstinate, and yes I did replace you with a sycophant to lead the search for my uncle in your stead. I apologize for being overcome with emotion and acting rashly. But you are the Lord Protector, the commander in chief of my legions, and the defender of the realm. You may have been just a captain at the opening stages of the civil war, but that was twenty years ago. When the losses to your regiment annihilated its command cadre of officers, it was you who rose to the challenge and became the right hand of my uncle during the war. You have not just extensive experience in the affairs of men and war, but also have ably demonstrated your skill time and time again. I did not grant you the title of Lord Protector for you to be cowed like a timid woman by the flexing of my authority. You are my general and advisor and when I, a rank amateur in matters of military import no matter my age or learning in other fields, try to override you in a flight of fancy, I need you to be there to advise me against it. I need you to be willing to call together the privy council and unite them against my decisions if you have just cause to rebuke them. In the days to come, I will need my Lord Protector to be able to operate with as much independence as possible if we are to see this through to the end with our heads intact.¡± Her voice was solemn, conveying her thoughts in a manner truly befitting that of a king.


    ¡°I will agree to that Your Majesty¡­ I am sorry for being remiss in my duties and failing to take command of the situation. It will not happen again.¡± Nathaniel knelt on the ground with reverence, hanging his head low in shame.


    He had never before seen a ruler, or any member of the nobility come to mind, so openly admit their shortcomings. To directly request for a vassal to reject her imperial authority in favor of their own initiative over fields in which she was found lacking, it was unprecedented. Truly, she had the mindset of a great ruler. He felt a deep sense of shame in regards to his tenure as Lord Protector. He had served ably and justly, overseen the adoption of new tactics, arms, and logistics as he presided over the evolution from the scattered remains of hundreds of disparate noble retinues to legions with a firm loyalty to none but the crown. And yet for all that experience and accomplishment, he had failed her in the time in which she had needed him most. As her most important military advisor, he had let her override his decisions and sent away the men which, in current circumstances, may very well have been the last hope of the empire.


    ¡°You are forgiven Nathaniel, and as lacking in your duties as you may have been as advisor, I do thank you from the bottom of my heart for tempering my rage. In this time of crisis, my mind must be as focused steel, ready to be driven into the heart of my enemies.¡± The Empress broke her mask of neutrality as her lips formed a genuine smile, a rarity Nathaniel had not seen in years.


    ¡°That letter was from one of my secret police. Yes you heard correctly, and before you ask, no they are not members of the soldiery and were it not for the current dire circumstances you would still have remained ignorant of their existence.¡± She spoke of the missive from the member of the Occuli, dismissive of his confusion. They were an organization formed by and directly answered only to her, with no other form of supervision. It was only right that the very people upon which they preyed and acted as her eyes and ears against would have no knowledge of their existence.


    ¡°My uncle has assembled the cream of the martial might of his entire Duchy into that army, although I am sure he has far, far more men of lesser quality already amassing back home. Regardless, he, along with a complement of Aachish mercenaries, are marching towards Maegwyn as we speak, along a route I had never even conceived of in my preparations for the search. They have fortunately been set back weeks by sudden rains along their chosen route, but will surely be striking against us within the month. We have no hope of reinforcement in the time we have remaining. I would request you send messengers to each of the remaining legions we have in the field, but I have neither hope that they will arrive in time to affect the battle, nor do I want our borders weakened in a vain attempt to save the capital. I will not have my people, still recovering from the scars left by the civil war, laid defenseless like meat thrown to the slavering jaws of vicious wolves just to save my reign from internal schism.¡± The Empress spoke melancholically, her earlier fire fading as she acknowledged the reality of the almost hopelessness of the situation.


    ¡°I need you to do anything and everything you can to ensure the protection of Maegwyn, and to the greatest extent possible to ensure the survival of its people. Will you be able to?¡± She inquired, her eyebrows raised in challenge.


    ¡°In all honesty Your Majesty, no. The young men of Maegwyn are soft and weak, they have not lived through the hardship of the civil war like we have, nor have they known struggle for survival, not with their current malaise lying down and hoping for good fortune to be granted to them like a miracle. The harder men have long ago left for more distant locations to pursue their fortunes. Even if we completely emptied the treasury, it will take time just to teach these green boys how to wield a spear, let alone to turn them into effective soldiers. I can only recommend abandoning the city. We can order a general evacuation, moving the court to the east where we may yet hope to be reinforced by the local legions. I do not find it feasible to defend this city, and as stricken by economic hardship as it is, is there even a reason to remain here at all?¡± His tone was questioning, eager to redeem the honor of his title by convincing her otherwise and preventing another disaster.


    His suggestion was solid. They would be able to recruit more able bodied and experienced men, if not necessarily at war than in other practical trades such as hunting if they abandoned the urban sprawl of the capital for the more rural lands in the east. While Maegwyn did have an extensive industrial base built by generations of artisans that had only grown greater as it became the hub of production for the legions, the rest of the city was in shambles and it had only barely survived the civil war. If they destroyed the furnaces and foundries that made the core of the inner city, Maegwyn would have precious little to offer any conqueror. The only reason he surmised that the Empress had remained within its ancient walls was her feelings of pride over any sense of practicality. With the sole exception of the imperial treasury sealed in the under levels of the palace keep, there was no great accumulation of treasure or material within Maegwyn that would be worth preserving at the cost of a night impossible to win fight.


    ¡°I understand your point regarding the city, but there is something of which you remain ignorant. While the city itself is, from the perspective of the rest of the Empire, of little consequence, that cannot be said about the Spire. Here I have stored the accumulated knowledge of ages, recreated and restored through my meetings with like minded scholars for decades. It is with this knowledge that I make my plans to guide the kingdom. I may myself be long lived, but what is my paltry lifetime of a mere fifty years compared to centuries of human experience and hundreds of perspectives on what it means to rule? It will take many, many years, but these vaults of mine I believe will be the foundation for the revitalization of our people for centuries, if not longer.¡± Lips pursed at his frank assessment of the worth of the city, she regaled him with her plans for the future, her voice growing lighter as she shared her deeply held hopes and dreams.


    ¡°That being said, there is also a darker, far more practical reason that Maegwyn, and specifically, the Spire, cannot fall into the hands of anyone but myself, let alone those of the greedy treacherous snake that is my uncle or those Aachish apes with which he is in league. Within these repositories I have also stored my accumulated research into the workings of the esoteric arts. You may find me powerful, perhaps unusually so amongst the others of my kind, that you have seen throughout your life, but I am far from alone. While my longevity may be vanishingly rare, power gained through the callous sacrifice of others in the pursuit of destruction and death is much more common. I was already suspicious when I received word that there were not even foot prints left of the Duke¡¯s army, and here we have a report confirming a further ten thousand men from Aachenwald that had somehow crossed the border and travelled hundreds of miles to the capital region with nary a trace. I do not trust any of my fellow practitioners with the dreadful things that I have studied, let alone ones that would sell themselves out to my treacherous uncle and the black mercenaries of Aachenwald. We cannot let them have this Spire.¡± Her light voice dropped lower, almost despairing, her hands reaching up to cover her reddened eyes from his sight.


    ¡°Is there no way to move your treasures, Your Majesty? Or if the worst should come to pass¡­ to destroy them? You may have your hopes set on using these as the foundation for our Empire, I am neither scholar nor ruler and I admit my shortcomings in regards to your high minded policies, but if you have built them up once then surely you must be able to do so again? To start anew someplace else where they would not be under threat? I see no feasible way to save this city, not with the resources and time at our disposal, unless perhaps you have some working with which to set things in our favor?¡± He asked, trying to understand her perspective.


    While he now knew that the great tower was of vital importance to her plans, he struggled to take that into account when considering the state of the city. No matter the strength of the defenses, it was indefensible. It could never stand with the vast numerical disparity against which they were arrayed.


    ¡°You are right of course, at least about my treasures. Old tomes and stories, accounts from lives well lived across the centuries. Mine are hardly the only copies and the network of scholars with which I have assembled these works still stands, hale and hearty and could put together another of its like again given enough time. It may push back the progress of our Empire for decades to come, but it is still feasible.¡± She was visibly saddened at the notion of the destruction of her treasures, the undermining of her hopes and dreams.


    ¡°But it is not my treasures for which I shall draw my line in the sand. My research into the esoteric arts has assembled more than mere words on parchment. Exotic reagents, vile concoctions, and rare artifacts of terrible power have found their way into the vaults within the tower. You may have even seen the rooms in which I store such, their labels coded in script only I may understand. They have been invaluable to me as I have developed my own workings, but that same value to me would also prove of dire consequence if they were destroyed. The conflagration that would result from the destruction of all of these items of fell power would mar the land for generations to come on a scale that even I, learned as I am, struggle to comprehend. It would ruin the Empire and destroy far more lives than even the sacrifice of every single person in this city in its defense. Even worse would be smuggling them out piecemeal. Every piece, impossible to track, would scatter to the four winds if even one man knew of their value. Such power of their destruction would be magnified tenfold if placed into the hands of the more belligerent of my kind. No, the city, or at least this Spire, must stand. I will accept your superiority in all other matters of military import, but I will brook no argument over the need to defend my tower. She felt somewhat guilty over imparting her expectations of him to overrule her decisions, only to overrule his own so quickly, but she could not afford to be soft hearted here. It was difficult for anyone not learned in the esoteric arts to be able to comprehend its nuances and the consequences of its misuse, but it was essential that he understand the consequences of letting this city fall, no matter his ignorance.


    ¡°I understand, Your Majesty. Will that be all?¡± Getting up from his kneeling position, he looked down at the seated Empress, his voice terse.


    It seemed that she was willing to let even more of her people to suffer in the vain hope of preserving the city. He hoped that by some miracle, she would be able to prepare some working with which to even the odds, if not save the city outright, but he remained doubtful. It would seem that he would have his work cut out for him in the coming days. Thinking back to her earlier request for the needs of an advisor willing to go over her head, his mind turned. While he understood that the consequences of the Spire falling would be great, if all hope seemed lost either way, it would only be natural to try to save the situation as best he could, and the best part was, she had already given him her explicit permission.


    ¡°Yes. You may go. I hope you have taken my words to heart. I promise that I will do my utmost to craft a means of aiding you in the trials ahead. I expect great things of you, Nathaniel.¡± Her voice, weary from the burden places upon her shoulders of being the only one able to understand what is at stake in the trials to come, brightened once more, a brilliant smile cresting her face as she saw Nathaniel off.


    ¡°Before your leave, take this.¡± Her bright voice called from behind his back, tossing something over with the sound of wind. From behind his back, his left arm shot out, grasping the object, pulling it closer to him to inspect. It was his coat, covered in bloodstains. He let out a sigh of disappointment as he accepted that his once fine coat was no ruined beyond repair, before leaving through the door.


    The Empress pondered her loyal vassal as he left. He had performed brilliantly in the civil war, beginning the war as a mere captain of foot commanding a company of polemen, an ad hoc configuration of billhooks, poleaxes, and flimsy pikes crafted from the barely modified blades of peasants farming equipment, and ending it as the right hand man of her uncle, the supreme commander at the time of all of her forces. He had fought against all odds in some of the bloodiest fighting of the entire war, seeing his superiors cut down before him time and time again, only to take their place and lead on. His company of peasants had grown into an entire army by the end of the war, an integral part of the final victories. Perhaps in their current predicament, where all hope was seemingly lost, he would be able to pull off a similar miracle.

 Chapter Five

    Golden rays of brilliant sunlight streamed down from the high windows of the palace keep, illuminating a great round table, covered with a detailed map of the city of Maegwyn. Arrayed in a circle around the great stable stood ten men. Each of these men was large and heavily muscled, covered in old scars and an adornment of more significant injuries, whether they be missing eyes, legs, or even hands, all having been replaced to the utmost with functional wooden prosthetics.


    These men were hardly noblemen, strutting about imperious dress of silk and luxuriously dyed cloth with which to wear to formal functions, but fighting men, veterans of the civil war that had been called together in the Empire¡¯s crisis to captain the burgeoning ranks of the Home Guard. Ordered to muster in the palace for the discussion of the defense of the city in light of the Empress¡¯s message of dire import, they entered wearing the only symbol of status that mattered, clad in elaborate ensembles of mail, light enough to wear casually, but heavy enough to grant, alongside their gruff appearances, an intimidating aura that brooked no disrespect.


    Secondary tables were scattered through the large room, each covered in reports to serve in the city¡¯s defense. A general inspection of the various ancient fortifications defending the city had been ordered, the pages upon pages of its findings scattered about both on the tables and in the hands of several men, deep in conversation. Other reports touched upon the progress of the Home Guard¡¯s mass conscription and training, detailing planned training regimens and material requirements to support its ongoing expansion. Further were pages detailing the inventories of the city¡¯s stockpiled weapons, taken from audits of dozens of armories and workshops from both the palace and scattered around the city. Numerous receipts floated about the room, orders made to the local artisans of the city on the behalf of the Lord Protector for weapons, armor, and food to serve both the growing numbers of the Home Guard and the inevitable masses of troops raised in the surrounding countryside.


    Around each of the lesser tables, dozens of men stood, neither calm of demeanor nor quite approaching the realm of outright anger, they argued over various agreements and the content of the reports scattered throughout the room. Two manners of individuals numbered among them, the first being the quartermasters of the Home Guard, one in attendance for each of the companies raised therein. They were simple of dress, but aggressive in their discussions despite the lofty status of their foes, betraying their belligerent attitude for accomplishing their goals. The second were the various officials in attendance representing the artisanal guilds of the inner city, there to represent the interests of the craftsmen too occupied with work to be present, that had and would continue to in the future serve the vital role of providing the city with much needed war material


    It was the morning following the Empress¡¯s arrogant command to defend the city in the face of insurmountable odds, and Nathaniel had gathered the remaining captains of the Home Guard, along with their various lieutenants and representatives of the city¡¯s industrial base, to discuss its defense. He had compiled the information needed to plan the likely futile defense, its accomplishment in only a single night made possible only by the already considerable existent base of knowledge compiled during his tenure as overseer of the Home Guard¡¯s expansion. To put it succinctly, the situation was grim.


    Projections of the conscription within the city indicated an upper limit of a mere ten thousand half trained peasants by the end of the month, a paltry amount in comparison to the upwards of thirty thousand professional soldiers they would be set against. If the gods at all favored the Empress¡¯s victory, then those raised elsewhere would be of much greater quantity. He had already made the decision to completely abandon the miles of farmland and villages radiating from the city, the Home Guard would stand no chance in a field battle against such a superior foe.


    A general evacuation order would be made by the palace in the days to come, ordering the movement of accumulated food stores to the capital. Every able bodied farmer would likely be conscripted, although not in the ranks of the Home Guard, but by local lords in the Empress¡¯s name. Thankfully the enemy had chosen autumn as their time of invasion, and the seasonal harvest was already well underway and would be expedited under the Empress¡¯s order. By the time of their arrival, there would be naught but barren fields and empty pastures between them and the city.


    The freely flowing coffers of the imperial treasury had ensured that the food supplies, needed to feed the tens of thousands of troops expected to soon mass at the city, would be well compensated for. The families of the farmers, flush with cash following the mass purchase of crop and livestock alike, would find solace in far off cities alongside a general relocation of the infirm of the city itself, sent far off from the fighting in preparation for a great siege. While every able bodied man that the crown could conscript was required in its defense, the weak and sickly would add only extra mouths and act as vectors of disease that would ravage the already dubiously competent peasant army to an even greater extent than the upcoming fighting.


    The state of the city walls was grave. Raised centuries ago, in a time in which men on foot and horse, supported at most by artillery capable of hurling stones of middling size against them, they were now hopelessly archaic. In modern times, great bombards were employed in considerable numbers, capable of hurling heavy balls of cast iron against walls, swiftly cracking the cut stone or brick of their construction to bring them tumbling down.


    During the civil war, the outer walls of the city had come under such fire, swathes of their crenellated peaks being smashed into rubble, their very foundations quaking. However, the outer walls had survived, and their half destroyed ruins were deliberately lowered to a height of just twelve feet, the lowered bulwark being shielded from without by great earthworks built along the outskirts of the city. At present, the outer wall, still bearing many of the scars from its previous battles, was the only wall so modernized, as feeble as it was, while the inner walls and palace walls, untouched from the fighting during the civil war, remained tall and proud, simple targets for siege cannon.


    Therefore, with the inner and palace walls generally indefensible from enemy artillery, it would be imperative to hold the enemy back at the outer walls and the earth works from whence the sheer range itself would protect those vulnerable targets from bombardment. The earth works themselves, many feet thick and completely surrounding the city, were its best hope for defense against the enemy artillery. The thick earth could absorb the impact of cannon fire with ease, sparing the city, and its great height would obscure the outer walls and city behind it from the hungry gaze of the enemy¡¯s artillery. They would be rather difficult for the city to hold, however, against the enemy infantry.


    With vanishingly few hunters or other skilled marksmen left in a capital region that had long since levelled its wild forests into naught but tamed groves and copses, the Home Guard lacked the capability of providing a sizeable force of skirmishers for their defense. Spanning outwards even from the sprawling outer city of Maegwyn, the earthworks stretched for miles and miles, straddling both sides of the uncrossable, roiling river that bisected the city. It was far too great of a distance for the inconsequential numbers of the Home Guard to defend, they were trained to fight in large formations for an entirely different order of battle.


    When Nathaniel had first ordered the conscription of the Home Guard, he had decided on two primary weapons for their ranks, knowing the meek men of the city and how little time they would have to prepare. Spears, he had decided, would be sufficient for the majority. With spears even minimally trained men would be able to form sturdy blocks to hold the gates and to push back men scaling the walls, although they would never be able to stand against a disciplined enemy formation. The minority would be made up of crossbowmen. Demanding far less strength and skill than the more ubiquitous longbow within the imperial legions, the crossbow could hurl missiles at almost as great a distance and with as much or more penetrative power as an arrow, while needing a fraction of the strength required to wield the longbow. They would be capable of piercing thickly armored Aachish footmen from atop the walls, where they would be protected during the lengthy period of resetting the crossbow by crenellations and the great height of the walls.


    At the time, he had hoped for a mostly close order battle, knowing the Aachish preference for close combat, he had intended to defend the walls and gates with massed ranks of spearmen. With the Aachish forced to scale the walls via siege ladder, even as short as those walls were, the spearmen of the Home Guard would be able to repel them with ease as they approached one at a time. Had the invading Aachish forces taken the time to scavenge the outer city for wood to construct siege towers, the scattered cannon mounted upon the city¡¯s outer wall would be able to pick them apart at their leisure. Had they even assembled rams, intent upon smashing the gates, the crossbowmen stationed atop the wall would be able to fire en masse down upon the ram bearers, sending them scurrying back to their encampments. With confidence, he had made his plans, expecting an invading army to be more interested in the swiftness of the attack, than its ferocity, lacking the extensive baggage train and artillery that would be required to actually crack through the city¡¯s outer wall.


    His hopes however had been dashed upon learning of the betrayal of the Duke and the fact that, it would not be primarily the Aachish footmen he was facing, that while possessing numerous arquebus and crossbow, would still be majorly pikemen and swordsmen. Instead, it would be fellow men of Albion, survivors of the civil war and capable of hurling the might of massed formations of archers against him. With the complicity of men of his own country, the attack would clearly not be a mere Aachish raid, but likely a ferocious attack supported by numerous bombards. With the walls themselves in danger, he could only hope that the men of the Home Guard could hold the earth works and outer wall, but even in that they were hopelessly outmatched by the massed longbowmen of the Duke.


    Able to draw and fire rapidly, devastating in massed volley fire against any foe whether armored or bare, the longbowmen of Albion were a fearsome enemy against any foolish enough to be caught exposed. Crossbowmen that would need significant time to reset their weapons in between shots, would be at great disadvantage if they were needed to hold the earth works. Unlike the outer walls where they could safely gain cover behind its well designed crenellations, they would only be impeded by the thick earthen barriers protecting the outer city and be helpless against any massed infantry charge without the height of the wall to separate them. They would make poor skirmishers, and a poorer match against the experienced archers of the Duke¡¯s traitorous army.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    It seemed that the fall of the earth works was a foregone conclusion, an inevitability and that, while they must be protected in the short term, they could only be abandoned lest he risk losing the mass of his few available men. The outer city itself however, could perhaps be more defensible in these trying circumstances. Its twisting and winding dark alleys confused even the residents of that downtrodden district, let alone men from hundreds if not thousands of miles away. With significant numbers of crumbling ramshackle dwellings, there would be a plethora of available timber with which to construct barricades and road blocks that could break the disciplined formations of pikemen and longbowmen that the enemy may send. Fighting in this dense urban sprawl would perhaps allow his masses of spearmen to fight on a more even footing, being far more familiar with the layout of the city, against the professional fighting men of the Duke. Even then however, the disparity of numbers would certainly overwhelm them, and fighting atop the outer walls would be an inevitability. It would seem that there, the fate of the city would be truly decided.


    Nathaniel thought to his previous discussions with the Empress, upon her urgings for him to supersede her authority in such conditions as he found her lacking in experience and wisdom. This was such a time he thought, where the fate of tens of thousands of men hung in the balance, their lives already considered lost, necessary sacrifices by a capricious ruler. He would not let them die in vain, not if the city would fall regardless of their sacrifice, and damn the witch borne consequences. If the outer wall of the city should fall, he would personally ensure that the survivors could escape the city. Even if they could not win this battle, there would be others, and as long as the Empress retained at least a few loyal men she could always live on to fight anew.


    ¡°Silence! I will have order in the war room, I have an announcement for the ears of all men present.¡± Turning to the large assemblage of men standing before him, Nathaniel addressed the crowd, his voice loud and clear, booming over the din of dozens of conversations.


    ¡°As you have known, I originally commissioned the mass expansion of the Home Guard for the defense of our venerable city, blighted as it may be, against an Aachish incursion, one mighty enough to lay low our most beloved hero, the Duke of Brackenweir, and all of his men. However, the circumstances have changed drastically. As certified by our own scouts, it is not the Aachish incursion we have feared that is approaching, but something far worse. The treachery of the Duke of Brackenweir has seen him align with Aachish mercenaries in open revolt, and as we speak he is marching upon Maegwyn with an army thirty thousand strong, intent on pillage and slaughter. I have called all here this day to organize our resistance to this invasion, knowing that our prior plans will need to be amended. For this purpose, the Empress has granted that the Imperial treasury will be opened wide, not an expense shall be spared for the defense of this city and all those who live therein. That will be all, I expect for the quartermasters and guilds to answer our new expectations in the procurement of material and the preparation of our soldiery as directed by their captains.¡± As my booming announcement ended, a hush spread over the crowd.


    Instead of the raucous discussion that had preceded it, in the wake of my announcement only silent stares awaited. Many were struck dumb, slack jawed by the almost impossible to conceive notion of the betrayal of the Duke of Brackenweir. Others were fearful, their expressions contorted into that of worry as they pondered the odds. A few, notably those of the representatives of the artisanal guilds, wore expressions of barely disguised greed. With no thought of their own danger or the plight of their fellow countrymen, they only pondered the prospect of untold wealth promised by the opening of the imperial treasury. The captains of the Home Guard on their part mostly retained a stoic silence. Here and there, an eye twitched or a hand curled into a fist betraying their anger at the betrayal. Waiting several minutes for the spell of silence to be broken once more by the revival of fervent discussion, only incensed by the preceding announcement, I turned to the captains of the Home Guard.


    ¡°Ten thousand peasants will not be enough. The Empress intends on having the local lords raise their own armies once more to fight in the defense of the city.¡± I let my words run through their heads, their former stoic faces now visibly crumbling into that of anger.


    ¡°What was even the point of the civil war we all fought and bled for, if the moment the Empress dislikes her chances she gives those bastards back their old powers? They cannot be trusted. If given leave to amass an army, they are just as likely to stab her in the back with it as to aid her.¡± Spoke a large, brown haired man, Alexander Reed, the seventh captain of foot and in command of a company of spearmen. Several cries of support for his position rang out, although it was far from universal, but all gazes turned towards Nathaniel, demanding an explanation.


    ¡°I am well aware of their propensity for treachery. If one of the caliber of the Duke of Brackenweir was so easily swayed by blind greed, after receiving naught but grace from the Empress no less, then those who have only suffered her wrath shall forever remain suspect. However, it must be emphasized that the rate of expansion of the Home Guard has been far too lax, and must be accelerated greatly, doubly so if you are to counter the influence of the nobility. If we are to avoid betrayal, we need sufficient loyal soldiers within the city to make remaining loyal the more attractive option than the alternative.¡± He clarified the Empress¡¯s decision against their feelings of ideological betrayal. While Nathaniel may have normally reprimanded any that spoke out against the competency of the Empress, these old veterans had long ago earned the privilege of questioning her, and it would not do to sow dissent antagonizing them further.


    ¡°Aye, I¡¯d agree to that. But how do you suppose we increase our expansion? While men and materials we have aplenty, if we allow our standards to slacken the Home Guard will be all but useless against our current foe.¡± A squat, heavily bearded man of brown locks asked, the third captain of foot Nolan Derby, in command of a company of crossbowmen.


    ¡°The Empress¡¯s coffers are open wide and I have been invested with the utmost of imperial authority for all matters as pertaining to the defense of the city. I hereby grant you all the authority to impress into service any veteran of the civil war to serve as drill masters, whether they be artisans thinking themselves safe working contracts for the Home Guard, the affluent hiding behind their riches, or the lowliest beggar on the street. Additionally, I will arrange for the transfer of several of the Empress¡¯s Shield to serve as drill masters. While more bodyguard than actual soldier, they should be able to, at the very least, instill the rudimentary discipline needed to form a formation of spearmen.¡± He offered generously, a slight smile raising his face as the expressions of shock dawned on his assembled officers over the sweeping powers now granted to them.


    ¡°We are much obliged for your assistance then, Nathaniel. We should at least be able to muster fifteen thousand ¨C nay, twenty thousand men with such authority. You had me convinced the Empress would demand every feeble bodied layabout in the city repel those traitorous fiends with naught but a spear and the fear of her wrath.¡± A slender, reedy man with a mop of blonde atop his head exclaimed enthusiastically, the fifth captain of foot Roland Everet, another commander of a company of spearmen. The mood brightened amongst the crowd, in agreement with Roland¡¯s enthusiasm, twenty thousand peasants atop the city wall might make a difference.


    ¡°Do you really think we have much of a chance you fools? Even with twenty thousand half trained men, they will still be naught but a motley crew of soft city borne boys. With nary but defenses, crumbling and archaic even two decades past during the civil war, you expect them to face a foe superior in both number and skill? Our feeble quantities of cannon alone, earth works or not, spells our doom against an army prepared to take a city of this magnitude.¡± The dissenting voice of a massive man rang out, not a trace of hair upon his scalp or eyebrows, it having burnt off long ago, the first captain of artillery, Bartholemew Brookens. The light hearted atmosphere that had struggled its way out amongst the crowd in these dark times was instantly extinguished, forcing all present to take a second guess at their chances, eyes downcast.


    ¡°No, I do not expect us to have much of a chance at all, merely to slow the enemy. Our forces are inexperienced and unprepared while our enemy is both and more numerous as well. However, while we shall certainly lose this city, we can win elsewhere. Bloodied by battle, our survivors will link up with the third and second legions, already recalled from the east. With that, they will form an army great enough to beat back the Duke and whatever mercenaries he has gathered to his banner.¡± Having already betrayed the Empress¡¯s entreaties to defend the Spire at all costs in my heart, I confidently spoke of my plans for the future. All present looked relieved, even that of the dissenter, the captain of artillery.


    ¡°Do not inform any of your men of this however, this decision has been made by me and me alone using the power invested in me by the Empress. Even she cannot be allowed to hear such, but I shall require you to prepare. The Empress herself has expressed her intent to let every man in this city die before it is allowed to fall, an act of madness, but I will not allow events to proceed as such. Upon the loss of the outer wall, there will no longer be purpose in defending the city and I shall order a breakthrough made in the direction opposite the breach. No matter how many men the enemy possesses, the city is vast and if they dare to encircle it they will be but feeble in number, easily swept aside by our massed ranks. At that time, I will ride to the palace and personally extract the Empress, forcefully if necessary, to continue to serve as sovereign in our retreat. Unfortunately however, due to her obstinance over the defense of the city I am certain that few if any of the Empress¡¯s Shield will survive the battle. The loss of the most experienced and skilled regiment in the Empire will be much mourned in the days to come, I am sure.¡± With a hushed tone to conceal my treasonous plan, I informed the captains of every detail.


    Stone faced, the previous relief of their faces draining as they realized my intent to go against their sovereign¡¯s will, they digested my words. As the Home Guard had already been expanded specifically because of the Empress¡¯s mishandling of the Empire¡¯s military following the disappearance of her uncle, they certainly possessed doubts in her ability to make strategic decisions. Additionally, even to those enthused by my granting of sweeping power to expand their ranks, the expectation of the Empress to hold the city against such odds seemed like an act of madness. However, given the betrayal of the Duke, felt deep within the hearts of each man present as all had fought at his side during the tumultuous days of the civil war, the prospect of betraying the Empress for which they had already devoted their lives, even if that betrayal was to further her cause, sat poorly with them.


    ¡°Thank you, Nathaniel for doing your duty as Lord Protector, and retaining a clear mind as all the world seems to turn on its head. We will need such effective leadership in the days to come if we are to retain any hope of defeating the Duke of Brackenweir in battle. I believe I speak for all assembled as I pledge my support to your plan.¡± A blond haired man of middling height, looking almost mundane in comparison to the rest of the captains present, spoke solemnly as he bowed to Nathaniel, his clenched fist pressed against his heart. This was the first captain of foot, Ethan Garrow, and the overall commander of the Home Guard, the most levelheaded among the officers present.


    After overcoming their own collective internal turmoil over conflicting loyalties, one by one the rest of the captains proceeded likewise in bowing their heads and pledging their support. With such unilateral agreement with his plan, Nathaniel felt confident that he would, at the very least, be able to save half of the men amassed in the city¡¯s defense. They would, hopefully after thoroughly bloodying the nose of the Duke of Brackenweir, be half trained peasants no more but survivors, veterans wielding vengeance for the slain in their hearts, ready to form the blade of the spear that will pierce the heart of the treacherous Duke and sweep the invading foreigners out of the Empire.

 Chapter Six

    A grand, airy hall lay illuminated by row upon row of immaculately crafted windows of stained glass, bathing the chamber they overlooked in coruscating flashes of vibrant color. This was the royal court, a great space within which generations of the Empire¡¯s rulers had awaited petitioners seeking redress, dispensing of the crown¡¯s justice, or addressing waiting couriers as they enacted their will into law. The sun beams cascading through the stained windows projected their contents, the origin mythology of the Empire, onto the bare stones of the floor of the hall in a patchwork story of radiant light.


    Depicted was the first Empress of Albion, Morgan, and the keystone in the events that had established the foundation of the Empire for generations to come. According to legend, she had been raised by wolves as a mere babe, living among them until her teenaged years. Found by hunters, she had made a stir in court with her wildness, dressed in a rugged assortment of rough furs taken from animals torn apart by her bare hands, her hair fashioned in a great scraggily mane cascading down her back that had become the ubiquitous hallmark of her presence in every piece of artwork made ever since. Impressed by her ferocity, the King of Albion had adopted her into his family as a companion for his own young son, a youth of a more timid nature that required a strong guiding hand.


    Despite her adoption, she was not one to put on the affectations of a noble lady, to be content with a position of inferiority as consort to the King¡¯s son. Instead, she was a wild and reckless creature, said to resemble in both appearance and action the very beasts by which she was raised as she slaughtered her foes with impunity, wielding a massive great sword with wild abandon. She was often depicted in contemporary artwork to herself possess some of the features of those creatures which she so resembled, bearing animalistic ears and tail and often being shown howling madly in defiance at some unseen foe, although such stylized renditions lost popularity in the subsequent years following her death.


    Known for her unusually great strength and skill at arms in her day, even in comparison to her male contemporaries, she had aided the then Kingdom of Albion to grow from a small state beset by foes on all sides, to that of a great and powerful Empire. Her final sacrifice, valiantly defending the then small village of Maegwyn against an invading force from what had eventually become Aachenwald, had ensured Albion¡¯s independence from that tumultuous collective. Her body, according to all accounts lost in a sea of Aachish corpses, had never been found, nor was that of her storied great sword, Lloergan.


    Underneath the lore bearing glow of the stained windows lay a great space, its dizzyingly high ceiling supported by gracefully curved, twisting arches of finely chiseled stone overlooking a wide chamber, bereft for the majority of either furniture or ornament. At the head of the hall sat a colossal construct of hewn granite upon a wide dais, its gray exterior polished to a shine as it formed the shape of a great chair. Upon its seat sat a cushion, a plush pillow crafted of silk and goose down so that even one of a delicate constitution may sit comfortably upon the hard stone.


    This was the Empress¡¯s seat, the throne of Albion, and its time worn edges were decorated with hundreds of marks of sigils, engraved words of wisdom, and carved effigies of fantastical creatures or famous events. The oldest of these were directly carved upon the sides of the stone throne, succeeded by younger marks as moving towards the high back of throne that still remained a massive, but unrefined granite boulder, allowing space enough to carve more marks for centuries to come. These were the marks left behind in memory of the past rulers of Albion stretching back centuries, detailing their feats and accomplishments as well as the messages they chose to pass on to future generations, all writ upon ageless stone.


    A long carpet, its fine vermillion threads of dyed wool shining in the light, stretched from the foot of the dais to the great doors of polished mahogany that formed the hall¡¯s primary entrance. This was the petitioner¡¯s walk, upon which those seeking the Empress¡¯s clemency or mediation would arrange themselves in a fine line, before prostrating at the foot of the dais. To either side of the carpet was bare stone, uncomfortable to stand atop for long, it was the designated area to wait for all those summoned to imperial audience.


    There were no chairs in the hall, only the Empress could comfortably rest upon her throne as she addressed peasant and noble alike. Surrounding the edges of the chamber, was a small stone pathway, half hidden behind the supporting columns of the chamber, but from which one could with ease observe the proceedings of court. This section was the domain of the Empress¡¯s Shield, acting at all times to protect her person from harm from alcoves around the chamber from whence they could act quickly, forming a protective shield of ranked steel before her or cutting down offending nobles in equal measure.


    A chill atmosphere pervaded the royal court, its still silence marred only by the hushed whispers of frightened and nervous men. Seldom did the Empress hold court, and even more seldom were those rare days in which she did so, not for the sake of meeting with petitioners, but for that of addressing noble guests. It was no secret that she cared little for the aristocracy, even those meek enough to not resist as she stripped them of their privileges in the wake of the civil war, and therefore those that still drew breath, were leery in any interactions with her and usually avoided attending court at all costs. Thus, it was highly unusual for such a heavy attendance by the artistocracy at court this day, rank upon rank of lavishly dressed men present, bedecked in delicate silks dyed in all manners of exotic colors. Their clothing was however, somewhat frayed at the seams and rough in appearance, largely being aged vestments. Impoverishment was no excuse for not looking one¡¯s best in a rare formal appearance after all. From the queasy looks several men gave as they waited and gossiped, it was evident they were not present by choice, messengers from the palace having been dispatched late the previous night with demands for their, along with all of their heirs, attendance at the next day¡¯s session of court. As leery of her often tyrannical whims as they were, it was clear that none dared, at least openly, to defy her will, as not a one of the local peers was absent.


    The Empress herself sat regally upon the grand throne, her arms splayed out calmly along each carved armrest, fingers firmly gripping the stone as she looked down imperiously upon those she had decided to call. Whenever her wandering gaze seemed to settle on an individual, her eyes meeting those of a member of the hushed crowd, they quickly turned away, none in attendance possessing of such daring as to stand out by meeting her gaze directly. As awkward silence hung in the air as she made no move to address the hushed crowd, allowing them time to ponder and sweat, thoughts cast to the many mistakes they had made in their lives that had culminated with their presence in that chamber under her predatory gaze. Nervous feet shifted about atop the hard stone floor, the clattering sound thus created rendering a fine accompaniment to the eerie quiet. Face set in her usual mask of formal neutrality, the Empress loudly cleared her throat, drawing the utmost attention of all present to herself.


    ¡°First, I would like to thank you all for attending the royal court this day on such short notice. I am well aware such urgency can be trying, especially when you fine gentlemen are so busy that you cannot attend even the regularly scheduled and publicly announced sessions of my fine court. Truly, it is quite a sight to see my own noble and elegant court so bare when I seem to recall that of my father¡¯s having far greater attendance. But I digress, your lack of dedication to my rule is, while duly noted, not the subject of today¡¯s meeting. I have summoned all present for one matter and one matter alone, the betrayal of my uncle, the Duke of Brackenweir, and his alliance with Aachish mercenaries with fell purpose to despoil the countryside.¡± Speaking gravely, but unable to resist playfully prodding the fearful nobles, the Empress put aside her petty animosity to calmly address the nervous crowd. They had decided to answer her summons after all, therefore it was only sensible that she was willing to grant forbearance upon her many grudges to those that knew their place.


    The once silent crowd degenerated into a chaotic cacophony of sound at her announcement. Surely that dreaded Duke, the same man whom had conspired with the then youngest and meekest princess to seize the throne and destroy the stranglehold the aristocracy had long held over the crown¡¯s power, would never cast aside his loyalties out of a mere petty desire for power. If that had been all it took to sway his allegiance, then the seemingly endless offers of bribery the nobility had hurled at him during the war would surely have succeeded, and the aristocracy would still reign ascendant within the Empire. But paradoxically it seemed, that stoic, principled man, that had been incorruptible shield and sword both for the Empress during the civil war, had been suborned in some fashion and now came for her head and the heads of all whom still bowed down before her.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    It was an unthinkable course of events, one that may have served as a means to recovery of their deserved rights had the Duke just offered for them to join his cause before his rebellion. But now they served only as a deathly promise of an inevitable destruction, as the few lands over which the nobility still held sway were sure to be despoiled by his rampaging army without discrimination on their advance to the imperial capital. The Empress waited for the hall to still once more as the worried whispers died away, her stoic, icy face, unchanged by the circumstances, serving as an anchor to calm the minds of the worried nobles.


    ¡°The Duke¡¯s army shall trod over each of your lands as he advances on Maegwyn, about that I have no doubt. While the crown is organizing the defense of the city itself, none present now possess power enough to defy him. Therefore, I henceforth reinstitute your right to levy the peasantry, and to organize and maintain personal armies for the protection of your lands. In recompense, I shall require from each man present to enter into his service every able bodied man between the ages of fifteen and thirty five as he has existing retinue in his service enough to train. I am quite informed of your quietly creeping quantities of bodyguards you may be intrigued to learn, and I am sure they will serve as fine drill masters for the peasants soon to be inducted in your name. You are expected to muster the forces so raised, and march them to Maegwyn within the month. I expect all of you to finance this levy from your own personal coffers as owed military service to the crown. Your men will be quartered within the outer city, at which time as they arrive will have been stripped bare of its current occupants. This decree is made in accordance with your oaths and duties as noblemen of the Empire, and I expect not a day¡¯s delay in its enforcement. I will remind you, that if the army of the Duke of Brackenweir is not put to rout at Maegwyn, it is your lands lying in adjacency to the capital, and with not a pittance of defense in comparison, that will be ravaged first. To save your lands and the lives of both your families and your people, you must participate in the city¡¯s defense, and together we will throw the invaders back from whence they came.¡± The Empress finished reciting her aggressive decree, her eyes cold as she stared directly into the eyes of the slack jawed nobles before her, daring them to defy her will, their shock too great to even think of averting their gazes.


    The announcement was as shocking, if not more so, than that acknowledging the Duke¡¯s treachery. Ever since the dark days of the civil war, those nobles that had survived with riches and lands intact had been forbidden from holding more than a paltry sum of professional fighting men within their personal retinues. It had always been the guiding principle of the Empress to strip the power of the aristocracy at every turn, yet here she was offering a way for them to return to power! As a collective, if they were able to marshal even a few thousand men each, then they would once more possess might enough to pressure the Empress into restoring the rest of the privileges, and perhaps reestablishing their influence over the crown may not remain a feeble dream. Furthermore, having personally experienced her tactics in forcing the disbandment of their past armies, they would be able to effectively oppose her efforts with unity if she attempted the same once more.


    However, this was a cursed olive branch, while seemingly presented as a means of reconciliation with the aristocracy in times of crisis, within its honeyed promise lied the sharp thorns of the Empress¡¯s deception. The disempowered nobility, already largely improverished, could ill afford the sudden costs of training the thousands of inexperienced peasants that she had demanded. In the pursuit of regaining their former privileges, many among them would likely become totally destitute, only made more so if the Duke¡¯s army were to ravage their lands in their absence. Their survival in terms of life and finance both, would be utterly dependent on the whims of a victorious Empress. Betrayal was quite simply, not an option.


    ¡°I refuse! Having already stripped us of land and wealth, she would rather toss us to the waiting jaws of starving wolves to gain herself even another second to live. The costs of so mustering the forces that she has demanded will see each and every one of us no less devastated than if the Duke himself had despoiled our lands entire of wealth and men. Do I speak no sense, who is with me?¡± An angry voice rang from within the crowd at the conclusion of the Empress¡¯s address.


    The crowd of nobles quickly parted before the Empress¡¯s fierce gaze upon hearing the slanderous words, their faces transformed into that of terror, their complexions pallid and colorless. No matter the insane demand, her will could not be defied they knew well. What fool among them dared to so openly question her, having already learnt the cost of defiance during the purges to which they all bore witness? A thin man, his sagging skin lying in folds over where once there were rolls of fat, with ruddy brown hair dressed in well worn silks was revealed, his jaw clenched and face flushed red with anger. This was Baron Heath Somer, a noble whose finances had been struck a particularly fatal blow by the abolishment of serfdom, droves of his populace having run away from his own petty tyranny upon gaining their freedom. Standing beside the Baron was a woman and a teenager dressed in similar attire, presumably his wife and son. Facing the direct, frosty glare of the Empress however, now that there remained not a man in sight to conceal him from her wrath, his anger gave way to fear, and his reddened face drained of color as his eyes met hers.


    With a nod of her head, a heavily armored man stepped forth from between the shadowed columns of the perimeter of the hall, his face entirely concealed by a heavy steel great helm, a member of the Empress¡¯s Shield. As he advanced, the two standing beside the Baron distanced themselves in a frantic hurry, their expressions turning into that of outright terror. The wife¡¯s body trembled like that of a leaf in the wind, while that of the youth stood wide eyed at the approaching soldier. With a rapid upraising of a large axe, the soldier cleaved down against the Baron, caught unawares as his attention remained drowning in the fierceness of the Empress¡¯s direct gaze. The baron¡¯s head separated cleanly from his shoulders in a scarlet spray as the axe descended, covering soldier and family member alike in his still warm blood, as his headless, twitching body collapsed on the ground in a rapidly spready pool of sanguine ichor.


    ¡°Congratulations on your coronation, young Baron. I was sorry to hear about your unfortunate father, but I trust you will be able to provide the required quantity of men in time?¡± The Empress¡¯s neutral face took on that of a jovial nature, her lips quirked in the trace of a smile as she beamed at the Baron¡¯s son, her eyes however having frozen into an even harsher glare, untouched by her otherwise light hearted expression.


    ¡°O-o-of course. Y-y-your Majesty!¡± The terror stricken youth replied, quickly kneeling down, his knees dipping into the pool his father¡¯s blood, his silken pants greedily drinking the liquid as they dyed themselves in a gaudy red. He trembled fitfully under her gaze as she looked on in approval.


    ¡°Good, good. I am glad that the next generation of the aristocracy is already proven to be so much more reliable than that of ages past. I will trust in your abilities then. This session of court has been concluded, all present may now leave. Don¡¯t make the mistake of disappointing me when all lives in the capital remain at stake.¡± Seemingly taking delight in spreading terror amongst the assembled crowd, the Empress cheerfully relayed her final warning before dismissing the assembly.


    It had been a long time since they had last seen an execution, most of those that defied her having died in battle as her legions assaulted their strongholds, or otherwise vanishing under mysterious circumstances. It was so easy to forget her temperament, her coldness, her ability to take a life with neither thought nor feeling, and sometimes even enjoying it. It was truly a frightful thing to witness, and the remaining nobles were thoroughly cowed by her gruesome display. While outwardly sympathizing with the plight of the now half orphaned youth, unprepared for the sudden responsibilities he had now had foisted upon him, inwardly each man was happy the same had not happened to him. As she declared the meeting adjourned, every man, woman, and child save those of the Empress¡¯s Shield fled the hall. Some walked quickly, keen to maintain their personal sense of dignity, some walked slowly heads cast down, trying to draw as little attention as possible, and some dashed madly, not a thought spared for appearances as they ran to escape her. All fled madly, no matter the means, under her baleful, icy gaze.

 Chapter Seven

    A district that had once sat dreary and lifeless, its feckless inhabitants content to waste away to nothing in the absence of work or sustenance, was now roused to frenetic action in the wake of the city¡¯s preparations for war. Where once stood ramshackle shelters of soft, rotting timbers and roofs of molding thatch, arranged in choking thickness strangling the routes used by passersby, now were wide open spaces strewn with active construction projects. As the city turned its remaining industry towards war, the populace that still possessed strength enough to wield spear or bow was hastily banded together. With the open coffers of the imperial treasury and mountains of work to be done, the able bodied inhabitants of the outer city were revitalized, finding a place in the Home Guard which sought to employ them as both laborer and soldier.


    The infirm inhabitants of the outer city, those lacking the strength or will to serve in the Home Guard, were expelled, supplied with stores enough scrounged from hastily cultivated fields to ensure their survival, but sent far to the east where they might find themselves of greater use than in the soon to be besieged capital. The legions deployed to the borders, and more vitally the second and third legions that were already actively marching westward towards the capital region, had been given orders to begin building up their forces en masse. Their status as large, established military organizations teeming with disciplined men, would allow the legions to train new inductees with efficiency and swiftness far surpassing that of the hastily assembled Home Guard left in the capital. They would put those displaced from the capital city to far more effective use than the Home Guard, with its impending deadline of the city¡¯s invasion, could manage.


    Now bereft of their former inhabitants, the abandoned shelters of the outer city were largely demolished, clearing the way for new constructions. Parade grounds were erected across the district to provide spaces for the newly inducted members of the Home Guard to train, the shouting of drillmasters and training soldiers travelling far in the now clear and open spaces. Barracks and Armories were built surrounding each parade ground, far sturdier than the dilapidated homes of the now displaced, they served the now greatly expanded requirements of the city¡¯s defenders with space for quartering tens of thousands of men and storing their equipment.


    Each of the ten companies of the Home Guard were housed within their own suite of parade ground, barracks, armories, each attended as well by scores of storerooms, cooking halls, and all assortment of supporting buildings necessary to ensure their operation. Each of these military bases was scattered throughout the city to ensure a relatively even degree of support to the entirety of the outer city. While sturdy, they were built of hastily assembled stones and timbers, considered not as any manner of permanent construct but with the intent to abandon them as swiftly as the fight for the outer city was lost, so as to prevent their stores from being captured by the enemy. Ample stores of dried thatch and barrels of oil would ensure their rapid engulfment from thrown torches and lanterns during the planned retreat.


    The emplacement of the quarters for the men of the first company of artillery, serving under captain Brookens, was a notable exception to this arrangement. Rather than being organized in a singular base located in the outer city, the company was housed in small encampments spread around the inside of the city¡¯s curtain wall. Each encampment consisted of several tents for the housing of men, a large pavilion for officers and the conduct of the company¡¯s affairs, large wooden storehouses for supplies of shot and gunpowder, and several wooden fascimilies of the cannons emplaced upon the curtain wall. These wooden constructs served well to train newly inducted members of the company in the operation and maintenance of the city¡¯s armament of cannon.


    The cannons themselves were emplaced atop the wall, partially shielded from view by stone crenellations specifically designed for the protection of their crew while allowing considerable angles of fire. Alongside the emplaced cannon were staches of gunpowder and shot, enough for several volleys, deposited in wooden sheds built atop the walls, conveniently shielded from the rain. Occasionally, the boom of cannon fire echoed across the city as the masters of ordnance conducted ranging fire in preparation of the battles to come. Runners from the company actively scurried about as they ferried shot and powder from the encampments to the guns themselves to replenish their local supply.


    Dozens of other impermanent encampments had likewise been assembled, their positions organized in a haphazard fashion across the entirety of the outer city. They consisted of vast arrangements of small sleeping tents and grand, gaudily dyed pavilions, all dug into whatever cleared land had been found by their occupants. These were the locations the local nobility had arranged for their armies of peasant levy and professional retinue to quarter, each encampment possessing a capacity measured in the thousands of men. While brought together, these men may significantly outnumber the Home Guard, by clever planning of the layout of each company¡¯s parade grounds and barracks alongside the positioning of newly erected fortifications, these encampments had been carefully isolated from each other to mitigate their potential for collective mutiny.


    On the outskirts of the outer city, many of the abandoned homes were, instead of demolishment, reinforced, with newly constructed facsimiles of homes being added to conceal the preparations of the city. These constructions were arrayed in a twisting and winding maze, even more bewildering than that of the natural urban sprawl of the city, accumulated over centuries of haphazard expansion, had accomplished before. The mazes were refined further with road blocks of rubble and fallen timbers, in some cases blocking access to a road entirely while in others merely narrowing it enough to impede the progress of the invaders and to form a natural chokepoint. Hidden routes were arranged within the maze, linking to shaded shelters in which men of the Home Guard could lie in wait, biding their time until the right moment to strike unseen against a foe hopelessly lost within the maze.


    Nathaniel strode the now broad avenues of the outer city, travelling in the direction of the parade grounds of the first company of foot. Ethan Garrow, its captain, was a level headed man, bright and surprisingly unambitious, and would be able to afford an honest assessment of the Home Guard¡¯s capabilities where the more impassioned of its captains could not. As he walked, he passed by dozens of men seemingly engaged in endless amounts of activity, whether they be part of the work gangs sawing wood or placing stones, patrolmen casting suspicious gazes about and enforcing order in the outer city, or drunk peasants, members of the nobility¡¯s levy, wandering about confusedly with naught work to accomplish. Their gazes were mean in many cases, unhappy at their circumstances, and with many dreading the inevitable invasion, but overall, they worked with rigor and purpose, a feeling alien to that blighted district even a month prior.


    Having been born in the countryside himself, Nathaniel had never before seen the outer city so full of life. By the time he had seen its walls for the first time during the civil war, it had already been the site of several skirmishes, exuding an aura of hopelessness even more oppressive than the slowly withering atmosphere of the outer city during the reign of the Empress. To see it so full of life was a joyful occasion, even under such dire circumstances, as it had likely been during the founding years of the Empire before the corruption of the aristocracy had set in. As he drew near the parade grounds of the first company of foot, the sounds of hammering and shouting orders of workmen were drowned out by the cries of men and the clashing of steel.


    The parade grounds occupied a wide open area, with space enough for the thousands of men of the first company of foot to train. Currently there were only a few hundred, the rest presumably having completed their formation training and either been rotated into the labor gangs for the preparation of the city¡¯s ad hoc fortifications, or out practicing maneuvers beyond the city¡¯s defenses. The men present were broken up into groups of around two hundred apiece, organized in long and thin ranks about the width of the city¡¯s outer wall. The men were practicing the thrusting of their spears, targeting straw dummies arranged before each one. Several sergeants walked amongst the ranks, bearing halberds they dressed the ranks, batting and cajoling the men into proper formation whilst simultaneously demonstrating the correct thrusting form.


    While their discipline still seemed lacking with both ranks and technique less than perfect even after several weeks of training, the men of the Home Guard largely looked fit to, at the very least, man the walls in times of siege. While the relative diminutive length of their spears would put them at a severe disadvantage in the field against their foes, whose much longer pikes could assail their formations at no peril, for the purposes of the city¡¯s defense they were far more ideal. Short in length, they could be easily hidden inside the homes constituting the maze like defenses of the outer city. They were far more maneuverable than cumbersome pikes, allowing their use even in the close confines of the narrow alleyways of the city. They could also be wielded with ease in the close confines atop the city¡¯s outer wall, allowing the men to form up and present a forest of ready steel to any that dared to scale the walls. They would be an able militia in the days to come, perfect for the defense of the city, even in these far from ideal circumstances.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Reaching a large tent positioned near the rows of barracks housing in a far corner of the parade ground, Nathaniel entered, its vibrantly colored flaps bearing the sigil of the Empress moving aside to let him pass. Inside the tent an unimpressively built blond man sat, hunched over various reports on his desk and quietly muttering to himself. As Nathaniel approached, the man did not seem to notice him, entirely absorbed in the material.


    ¡°Anything interesting Ethan?¡± Nathaniel asked demurely, his fist landing lightly on the desk, thoroughly rattling the papers, and making the man, first captain of foot Ethan Garrow, jump in his seat.


    ¡°Ah it¡¯s you Nathaniel. If it would not be too much trouble¡­ perhaps make a noise at the entrance next time. If it had been night and a candle had been present, you may have just cost the Empire weeks worth of patrol reports.¡± Catching himself with a hand lightly placed over his heart, Ethan responded.


    ¡°These are the reports from my men sent on patrol throughout the outer city, very little of note has been witnessed. At most, there has been the expected friction between the lot brought in by the local lordlings and our own men. Those peasants seem neither well disciplined nor well trained, if I may add. While I am certainly thankful for the addition of their numbers to our forces, I am rather dubious of their fighting prowess.¡± Taking the time to ponder the reports he had been digesting for hours, Ethan provided a short summation.


    ¡°That is only to be expected, those men are farmers and shepherds, rugged men a lot more used to rough conditions and distance from authority and safety than the soft lot you¡¯ve been saddled with. I wouldn¡¯t expect the nobility to possess the capability to train bands of such men to any great competency as a real army, not those louts from the capital region at any rate. But those men have been raised in villages far from the waiting swords of the city¡¯s protectors and have trained all their lives in the art of the bow following the old traditions. The Empress needs them for that prowess, not for their discipline or any ability to take the enemy in the field. They are set to defend the earth works in the first waves of the enemy¡¯s attack.¡± A glint of mirth appeared in Nathaniel¡¯s eye as he touched upon the deliberate frustrations piled upon the mustered nobility.


    The Home Guard was greatly lacking in men capable of acting as skirmishers, a much needed role for the defense of the earth works and the frustration of the enemy¡¯s artillery. The conscripted rural peasantry, long trained from boyhood in the art of the longbow by tradition, even as their lords were forbidden the right to levy, were a perfect match for that particular niche. It was even more fitting as their deployment to the earth works would keep the various marshaled nobles far from each other¡¯s support, and conveniently in the region likely to experience the first, and greatest, losses.


    Spearmen arrayed in formation as following their instruction as inductees of the Home Guard would inevitably have great difficulty navigating the maze like defenses of the outer city, leaving stragglers to be helplessly cut down by pursuing enemies as they effected their retreat. But the rural peasants mustered by the nobility, fiercely independent and used to traversing the wild uneven terrain of the forest, would surely possess skill enough to navigate the narrow passageways with ease in the planned retreat to the interior of the outer city once holding the earth works became untenable. Circumstances had fallen such that the nobility could be kept at arm¡¯s length from each other and with forces weakened by attrition in battle against the foe, whilst preserving the bulk of the Home Guard¡¯s forces and greatly limiting the loss of life necessary for their plan. The coincidences lining up so perfectly for the defense of the city brought a rare smile to Nathaniel¡¯s tired face.


    ¡°You are certainly not wrong of course. I wish only that they could more ably control their men. Dozens of fights break out nightly between our respective forces, and the intervention of my patrolmen to break up those fights only invites further resentment and possible acts of retaliation. It is taking a great deal of manpower just to maintain order, and the injuries mounting upon both sides merely serve to weaken us in the face of our great enemy.¡± Ethan¡¯s face broke into an expression of worry as he recounted the violence and disordered conduct that had lately befallen the city. While present in any army, drunkards violent enough to cause serious injury regularly would be ruthlessly punished within the Home Guard, brooking no trouble that could endanger its combat readiness.


    ¡°Well then, I suppose it¡¯s a good thing this will all be over soon, one way or another then? They are the men of the nobility, and only their lord has the right to their punishment for such minor crimes. It won¡¯t do any good to stir the waters now, we have a war to win and cannot tolerate any internal conflict between the city¡¯s sole two forces of defense.¡± Waving his arms in a wild gesticulation of his own exasperation at the present circumstances, Nathaniel acknowledged Ethan¡¯s worry dismissively with his response.


    ¡°I will just have to hope that the water does not get stirred on the eve of battle then.¡± Ethan replied, covering his face with his hands as if his inability to see the reports would erase their content from reality.


    ¡°Now onto other matters, how do you believe your men are proceeding with their training? I have observed plenty walking through the city, but I would like to hear your thoughts.¡± Ending the topic with a shrug of his shoulders, Nathaniel inquired upon the state of the Home Guard.


    ¡°Where to begin, I wonder. Things have proceeded apace for their training and outfitting. We have been provided material enough to fully equip our projected twenty thousand men with spear or crossbow. Of that twenty thousand, the majority are armored in combination of mail and cloth, with a few thousand clad in brigandine or plate. They are well versed in the limited formations we have required, small blocks the width of a city street to hold the chokepoints in the outer city and organized ranks for holding the walls. However, their discipline is somewhat lacking and I despair at their ability to hold fast in the face of a determined enemy, our forces lack the experienced sergeants with which to firmly instill order. I do not expect them to endure whatsoever in the push of pike, but I am sure you are well aware of the vulnerabilities of their armament. They will never be able to take to the field, and if they survive this battle they will need to be retrained and reequipped before being able to join with the legions. I expect them to perform¡­ adequately in our current plans for the defense of this city, but their shortcomings will make any defense past the fall of the outer wall inadvisable to say the least.¡± Ethan¡¯s expression was one rather less than optimism for their chances as he relayed the status of the troops, his eyes casually scanning through training reports set aside on his desk.


    ¡°I expected as much but fear not, as Lord Protector of our great and noble Empire, I will not allow the lives of this city¡¯s defenders to be callously thrown away. While I sincerely wish and pray for their victory in the coming battle, you must make ready to flee at the right moment, lest the Duke slay to a man what may very well become the heart of the Empress¡¯s future defenders.¡± Acknowledging the unfortunate reality present with a grim expression, Nathaniel¡¯s solemn voice rang out, beseeching Ethan to bear the planned retreat in mind.


    ¡°I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your understanding, Nathaniel. These boys are young and foolish, caught in a war without hope, and they do not deserve death without chance to struggle for life. If we cannot slay the Duke outright, we will firmly bloody his nose, and when we return we shall cleave his head from his shoulders and trod upon his corpse!¡± Enthusiastic, almost shouting, Ethan returned Nathaniel¡¯s promise with a renewed pledge of support and a fire burning in his heart of desire for their half trained force of peasants to accomplish something to scar the pride of the hated man that had betrayed them all.


    With a nod of his head at the enthusiastic display on the part of his subordinate, Nathaniel left the tent, confident in his knowledge of the current state of the Home Guard. While they were far from the most effective fighting force, they would be able to, in conjunction with support by the forces of the local nobility, sufficiently perform in the fighting to come. He had observed all that was necessary to develop a sense of the city¡¯s preparation for war. To place the finishing touches on the plans he was devising for its defense, a visit to the Empress would be needed. She had promised him upon their last meeting to search for such workings through which she could support their forces in the upcoming battle after all. Despite the advantage of the defense, and the numerous fortifications erected against the enemy, he knew that circumstances were such that it would take every weapon in his arsenal to force the enemy into even a pyrrhic victory, and he could not afford to leave even a single sword sheathed in the coming conflict.

 Chapter Eight

    The golden sun sat high in the sky like a king atop his throne, imperiously casting his heated gaze down upon the lowly mortals of Maegwyn. Its noontime rays of warm, gilded light shone down upon the city¡¯s many residents, warding off the late autumn chill that had been felt deep by those toiling below to the bone since they had begun their morning labors. The scintillating beams brilliantly illuminated the city¡¯s curtain wall, its storied history and battle scarred surface doing little to stop the bright reflections off of its pale stone construction. Greatly standing out amongst the shining stones of the wall, was a head of long and straight hair of raven black hue. The color contrasted so greatly with the materials of the wall itself, that it almost seemed to greedily sap the very light reflecting from the shining stones.


    This deep black hair, rare in a land more rife with mops of blonde or brunette, was that of none other than the Empress herself, instantly recognizable for any discerning man within sight. Her wan, almost sickly in pallor, face blended in so well with the shining, pale stone of the wall that were it not for her hair, she would be all but invisible. Beside her strode four large and heavily armored men of the Empress¡¯s Shield. Fully kitted for war, they surrounded her as she overlooked the city, keeping any soldiers or workmen well away with practiced stares of malignant menace so overbearing, that despite their faces remaining unseen beneath their opaque great helms, they exuded an aura of dread so great that none dared approach.


    As Nathaniel returned from the his trip to the parade grounds along the main thoroughfare, intent on reaching the palace, he sighted her eye catching hair and unmistakable appearance atop the curtain wall, and smiled to himself. It seemed that, this fine day at least, he would not be pressed to brave peril once more by making the crossing to the Spire. As beautiful and wondrous as its graceful architecture may seem, having come so close to the plunging depths of a watery grave crossing its only means of entrance, he was rather loath to return. Cheerfully he diverted his path to the interior of the curtain wall¡¯s gatehouse tower. Seemingly sufficiently chastised since his decidedly unsatisfactory prior encounter, the gatehouse guards admitted his entrance after sighting naught but his cheerful visage, allowing him to step out onto the wall with but a brief delay.


    ¡°Your Majesty, how fortunate am I to happen upon you in this happy hour. I was prepared to trek all the way to the palace to seek your audience, but my eyes chanced to spy your fair raven locks from afar.¡± Nathaniel respectfully bowed his head to the Empress in greeting, ensuring that he maintained a sizeable distance so as not to unnecessarily provoke the ire of her bodyguards.


    He laced his honeyed words with flattery, knowing that she would be far more amenable to lending him the aid he sought through her arts if he so praised her. With her austere neutrality of emotion and the terrifying reputation that she had so carefully cultivated in the minds of her noble courtiers, she was decidedly rather inexperienced with her vassals even daring to match her gaze without trembling, let alone with receiving such high praise appealing directly to her vanity.


    ¡°Good day to you as well Nathaniel. I was just observing the city¡¯s preparations for war, would you care to walk with me?¡± She nodded to him sagely, however her neutral tone did little to mask the faint rosy blush that settled upon her pale cheeks at his flattery. With a wave of her hand, she signaled to her guards to step aside. Returning her gesture with a curt nod, the guards parted for Nathaniel, allowing him to enter their protective envelope before reforming it around the two of them. Now with his addition, the party resumed its circuit around the wall, looking down upon the city below and observing with calculated gazes the frenzy of its activity.


    ¡°For what purpose does the Lord Protector seek audience with me? Are there any grave tidings newly received to which I am yet unaware?¡± She continued regally, her speech suddenly formal as she referred to him by his office rather than name, clearly caught off guard by his sudden flattery, and overcompensating in her effort to return their conversation back to task.


    ¡°Your Majesty, I have come to inquire upon your workings, as we had discussed in weeks prior. They may be our only hope of beating back the forces of your treacherous uncle, and it is my duty to ensure that this city is protected to the best I am able.¡± His tone became grave and his face lost its cheerful expression as she cut to the root of the matter.


    ¡°I have pondered our situation with great care and arrived at an answer. I am no warrior, no master of the esoteric arts turned to battle. My workings may be the product of a well disciplined and learned mind, but I have not the ability to strike down even their artillery, let alone their entire army. While I have read of great feats in the days of yore, entire armies emboldened by workings of empowerment granting the strength of bulls and the heart of lions, I cannot rework the bodies or minds of any save my own. While I have some mastery over influencing the weather, I can no more incite the heavens to smite down enemy generals than I can strike the bulls eye of a target with a droplet of water flicked from my hand.¡± She watched impassively as her honest admission of her limitations was received rather poorly, Nathaniel doing little to conceal the draining of hope from his face and the donning of a crestfallen expression.


    ¡°However, I have found suitable means to at least put our foe at great disadvantage. They have already been hopelessly delayed by fell weather, their detour, forced upon them in their vain effort to take Maegwyn by surprise, has cost them precious weeks that we have had to prepare. While the rains have not stopped them, and have let up as of late, the clouds heavily laden with water yet linger. I plan to call forth the rains over the entirety of the capital region on the eve of battle. Bearing in mind the current state of the skies, the most I can promise you of this great inundation is seven days of continuous rainfall. That is enough, I hope, to both flood the river and to turn the long miles laying between the city and the forest to muddy bog.¡± Nathaniel¡¯s crestfallen expression shifted to one of cold calculation, his interest piqued as he pondered her plan.


    It was truly unfortunate that she could not simply just wave her hand lightly and erase all of their problems, but he supposed if that were possible then the civil war would not have been won at such great cost. Not with the blood of tens of thousands of young men over eight long, grueling years if such an ability had lain within the Empress¡¯s repertoire. While not as terrifying as the unleashed wrath of the heavens directed at their foes could be, rain would certainly heavily favor their forces in battle. Weary from their long march through adverse weather, surely the enemy would already be exhausted by the time that they reached Maegwyn. If all that remained at the end of their long march was yet more chill rain and miles and miles of mucky, half flooded farm and pastureland, then they would not be able to rest and recover from their ordeals.


    While everyone within the city knew the hope of reinforcement from the recalled second and third legions marshaled from the east was distant, more than a month away, the Duke was surely not so knowledgeable of their situation, having been secluded upon an isolated road ever since his disappearance. The enemy would lack knowledge of the disposition of the Empress¡¯s forces, and would surely act while keeping in mind the looming threat of the any of the legions in the various regions surrounding the capital arriving to relieve the besieged forces of Maegwyn. The Duke¡¯s invaders would be pressed for time and coerced into a preemptive assault before the abatement of the rains would allow their troops to recover.


    A heavily exhausted enemy having gone weeks with precious little rest would likely be sickly and weak, surely out of sorts enough to give even their half trained peasant conscripts, at the very least, half of a chance of victory. Furthermore, while the walls of the city were certainly antiquated to the point of almost complete obsolescence in the modern day, that was only true when the enemy possessed means to bombard the walls with heavy cannon. If the entire capital region were to be drowned in ceaseless rains for the next seven days then, unless they took exceptional care with their artillery, the powder involved would become sodden and render the cannon impotent.


    Against the likes of infantry, the curtain wall would avail itself tremendously well, finally used in a manner of battle for which it was actually envisioned by its long dead designers. Additionally, in light of the first company of artillery¡¯s preparations for battle, their own cannon having been emplaced in shelters protected from the rain would be almost entirely unaffected by the planned deluge. Likewise, with the flooding of the banks of the river, already churning and roiling even without the introduction of rain, the swollen waterway will be all but uncrossable by the invaders, greatly diminishing the length of wall that would then need to be fully defended.


    ¡°You are keen of thought, Your Majesty. A great deluge will certainly cause great strife within the enemy camp, and I dare say their forces, weakened by weeks of endless rain, may yet be just weakened enough for our own greenhorn men to handle. However, seven days is but a brief span of time in comparison to the length of a possible siege, and we know naught the hour of their coming. I beseech you to wait upon casting your working until the final hour. We will have unknowingly squandered what may have be the only chance our men have if the rains give way before the coming of the enemy.¡± His thoughtful face scrunched as he considered the delicate timing with which the Empress¡¯s working must be made. They would have cast aside potentially their greatest weapon if she erred and preemptively enacted her art.


    ¡°I thank you from the depths of my heart that you care so for my subjects, Nathaniel. Were my uncle possessing of but a fraction of your consideration for your men to temper his ruthless nature in the years that he served me during the civil war, then perhaps caution would have saved the lives of many of our men. But you need not worry, while I have failed to divine the precise location of our enemy along King Hagar¡¯s way, I will be ready for them when they eventually clear the forest, and the rains will fall down upon their heads in short order. I would be more precise, yet my attempts at scrying upon them have been stymied time and time again, as if a great fog had settled over the entire region, concealing it from my gaze. I am afraid I will be unable to predict the exact date of their arrival.¡± Her expression twisted with a small frown as she confessed her frustrations. Despite her experience and great learning, her attempts to perform such a simple trick as scrying upon her enemies had been made to no avail.


    It was a harsh blow to her pride. Acknowledging her limitations to Nathaniel previously had been harsh enough, but at least she had held no illusions regarding her capability of performing those near mythical feats. This time however, it was different. The act of scrying merely requires a passing familiarity with a particular region and the ability to broaden one¡¯s mind through a medium. It was simple fare for even the petty conjurers that she so looked down upon, let alone for someone of her abilities. It did not even require exotic reagents and catalysts to perform! Yet here she was, openly acknowledging that even in such a simple field, one in which she felt complete confidence, when tested in her time of dire need she had been found wanting. It was a death blow to her pride as a witch.


    The entire affair reeked of interference by another one of her kind, unfortunately one seemingly far more capable than herself if they had so effectively countered her far seeing gaze. Blessedly, while her gaze into the dense forest had been blocked by means unknown, preventing her from following the progress of their enemy¡¯s march, she could still sight the outlet of the road upon leaving the forest through more mundane means. Whenever the foe dared to leave the protective embrace of the thick and gloomy boughs, she would be prepared and waiting, ready to release an inundation of water down upon their heads the likes of which they could not image.


    ¡°I am grateful to hear that you will be prepared for their arrival through your own means. While I had considered posting scouts to the edge of the forest to spy upon the road, the Home Guard possesses naught but soft city boys within its ranks, and none of them will ever possess the means or capabilities to hide from the sight of the experienced woodsmen present in the Duke¡¯s army. The only men in the city so capable are the peasant levy sworn to the local nobility. I would never trust even a small contingent of theirs so isolated from the intimidating proximity of the arms of the Home Guard and so close to that of the Duke, lest they take the opportunity as means to defect and undermine all of our efforts from within. But I must say, this fog of which you speak is worrying. While I am hardly an adept of the esoteric arts, I can only conceive that if it is the result of the same bastard that enabled this deceitful ploy of the Duke, by erasing the presence of tens of thousands of men in the first place, then we are in dire straits. If he can so effectively block your sight from afar then, if I may be so bold, will he not also possess means enough to dispel the rains and enable the Duke¡¯s army to cross the miles between the forest and Maegwyn with but little difficulty? While I did express my dearest hopes earlier as I learned of your plan, upon second consideration then if the rains are prevented, no matter the preparations we have made up to this day, I have but little confidence that the Home Guard will be able to repel our foe.¡± Nathaniel replied while stroking his chin lost in thought, his earlier enthusiasm all but vanished as he considered that even with the Empress¡¯s workings, she would likely serve only to counter the fell workings of her counterpart in the enemy¡¯s ranks. Her skill merely compensating for that of their foe¡¯s pet conjurer, rather than becoming the weight with which he had hoped to overcome the disparity in quality between their men and that of their foe, and tip the scale of the battle back into their favor.


    His worried musings were interrupted by an unexpected peal of most unladylike laughter from the Empress that subsided almost as quickly as it had come, devolving into undignified giggles until ceasing entirely as she once more took control of herself. It was a grave affront to her cold and emotionless image, where even a smile was rare, let alone raucous mirthful laughter. Her guards unconsciously whipped their heads from where they had been scanning the surroundings back to the Empress. Beneath their helms, their slack jawed and wide eyed expressions betrayed the depths of their shock at the Empress breaking her usual ice cold demeanor.


    ¡°Your ignorance upon the intricacies of the esoteric arts is once more noted and forgiven Nathaniel. I believe at some point I will need to personally school you in the foundations if my kind so persist in opposing us. However, this time at least you could have seen through the illusion crafted by our hated foe yourself. While I will grant you that we know little of this practitioner¡¯s abilities other than that he is able to conceal the movement of an entire army, no man, not even those endowed with the ability to bend and shape the world around them as they see fit as with my kind, is without limits to their abilities. This man, while without a doubt powerful compared to the usual fare of fools that dare to claim themselves practitioners of the esoteric arts, lies constrained by his own limitations. He has crafted an illusion in your mind, causing you to forgo sense in your dread of his abilities and because of this, admittedly somewhat understandable, fear of the unknown you have failed to gage his own plainly evident shortcomings.¡± The Empress paused as she formulated her words, her hands raised high for dramatic effect, and the faintest trace of a smile upon her face.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    It was a rare thing indeed that she found a man of such experience and capability as Nathaniel lacking, and even rarer were those times in which she herself could make an observation that had managed to elude his keen eyes. But witchcraft was a field in which she had vast knowledge, second to none in her own modest estimation, and she was overjoyed for once for her hard won knowledge to not only be relevant to the discussion at hand, but for it to be useful in seeing something that her loyal vassal had not.


    ¡°I may be rather inexperienced when it comes to the waging of war, but even my untrained eye has noticed the difficulty with which our enemy has been forced by ill circumstance to make their march. Delayed for weeks, they would surely have lost the element of surprise long ago, even if my spies had not located them. The muddy sludge which that ancient earthen road has surely become could have been no boon to them. While again, inexperienced in strategy and tactics, I have instead extensively studied the fields of trading and logistics and have travelled with many a caravan. Wagon wheels and horse hooves alike become easily mucked down in such conditions, greatly exhausting both man and horse as they march. Extended periods of heavy rain soak through the linings of tent and wagon covers alike over time, dripping down upon sleeping soldiers or precious cargo and severely damaging, if not entirely, ruining the contents. Food, always in short supply to cut costs and free up space when travelling to a known destination and along safe roads, becomes scarce as delays mount and rationing is eventually enforced, weakening man and beast yet further. Foraging for food can augment rations, but only delays the group even more and is therefore no true solution. Every day wasted is another day for food to spoil, for cargo to be destroyed by the ceaseless rain, or for the opportunity to profit to slip away. Or in this case, for the element of surprise to vanish and for us to be given time to muster our forces to repel their invasion. There is no advantage I can discern to so deliberately suffer from the rain, and yet here our foe has tolerated a delay of weeks due to it, despite relying upon the element of surprise to make his attack. I can only conclude that this man, skilled enough as he may be to block my attempts to gaze upon his fellows from afar, lacks the means to bend weather to his will as I do. He may be adept at opening his mind, as loath as I am to admit he is likely far more skilled and subtle in the expansion of his senses than I when acting outside the body and within the realm of thought. I am also sure that he would be more than able to erode and dissect most workings if I were to actively deploy them against him. However, no matter his mastery over the ethereal, a working existing as a physical material is different. I am not turning my very thoughts into rain, I merely manipulate the clouds and water that already exists. The storms formed by my workings will persist even if I were to withdraw my influence entirely. While he may pose some threat with small workings, perhaps able to dry some quantity of powder, shield cannon from the rain, or to firm up and harden uncertain ground for an elite few to effect a crossing of the muck, it will likely be few and far between that he can enact workings of any consequence. If he cannot drive off mere clouds, how could he ever hope to calm a raging river or to solidify hundreds of acres worth of muck enough to march an entire army across?¡± Finishing her lengthy analysis, her lips quirked, and her eyes sparkled in a look of smug satisfaction.


    ¡°I suppose I had not considered the limitations evidenced by their torturous march. My shock at the, to my eyes at least, great feats already performed by this man, has clouded my judgement of his capabilities. I may have to take you up on your offer of tutoring in the esoteric arts if foes of such power are to become commonplace amongst the ranks of the enemy.¡± With a bashful look Nathaniel confessed his own shortcomings. While he was somewhat disheartened to have been cowed so easily by the intimidating achievements of the unknown practitioner, he was gladdened to have his fears assuaged by one far more knowledgeable in the esoteric arts than he.


    ¡°With your assurance that your working will succeed I will be able to rest at ease. While I do not have full confidence in the men left to guard this city, between the coming rains and the fortifications that they have been toiling away to erect for the past few weeks, I reckon we may have a fighting chance at victory. Have you found our preparations to your liking, Your Majesty?¡± His face, recovered from the earlier gloom, was now brimming with confidence as he addressed the Empress. Perhaps there would be no cause to abandon the city after all. Although that thought still seemed to require a miracle.


    ¡°I admit that I possess naught but an untrained eye, but with a gladdened heart I have observed the training of men and the building of our defenses. I have not seen this city so full of life since the days of my father¡¯s reign. It has been truly wondrous to once more experience such an aura of vigor and vitality within these aged and decaying walls. For being able to effect such a miraculous transformation, I feel full of confidence in your ability to hold this city, whatever the odds may be. I know they may have been difficult to grasp for a non practitioner but, you have my deepest gratitude for taking my dire warnings should the city fall to heart. I have seen from the frenzied activity of the city that you have done your best to ensure it will not fall at any cost, even in our current unfortunate circumstances.¡± The Empress¡¯s radiant face was almost joyful as she praised him, but every word spoken seemed to cut through his flesh like a knife as he recalled his own determination to betray her trust.


    ¡°I am merely doing my duty as the Lord Protector, Your Majesty, there is no need to so profusely thank me for merely that. I must remain in atonement for not countermanding your order to deploy the fifth and sixth legions to the west, until such time as the danger has passed. You were right to rebuke me for failing in my duties as Lord Protector, and I have thought carefully upon my place in this Empire. All of my decisions have been made in accordance with the request of integrity you made of me at our last meeting.¡± He tried to brush off her praise, appearing humble and dismissive as his guilt for betraying her trust threatened to boil to the surface.


    He felt the need to confess, to admit to her that he was not the man that she thought he was, but held back knowing that the fate of thousands of men depended entirely upon him breaking his oath. Perhaps all of their preparations would pay off, that the Home Guard would be able to repulse the foe at least until they were relieved by the eastern legions. But he dared not hope so, knowing well that despite the Empress¡¯s own optimism that it was na?ve thinking. He could not afford for the Empire to be crippled by a defeat at Maegwyn, he must ensure that the bulk of their forces, and most importantly the Empress, survived to fight on in more favorable circumstances.


    His most fervent wish, even as a chill went up his spine as he squirmed beneath her penetrating gaze, was merely that she cease her undeserved praise. It was out of character for her to possess so great an interest in any man but her uncle, and after that man¡¯s betrayal he had thought that she would never trust another man so deeply again. However, contrary to his expectations, she seemed to be slowly placing her trust in him. But deep down he knew he was not worthy, that he would never be worthy of that trust no matter what ideal he fought for or how much he tried to support her in her time of dire need, that he was no better than her uncle.


    ¡°Do not be a fool Nathaniel, I cannot abide fools in my presence, let alone fools occupying the second most important position in the Empire. You have been an invaluable vassal to me, both in your capacity as the Lord Protector and when you fought under my uncle¡¯s banner during the civil war. While I may not have always heeded it, you have provided me with invaluable advice throughout your tenure without fail. My uncle¡¯s betrayal has put many things into perspective for me, and I find it vital both in my role as Empress and as a human being, that I have someone I can confide in, someone I can trust to stay by my side and support both me and the Empire in the most trying of circumstances. Unfortunately, through no fault of your own, I have overlooked you, my most trustworthy advisor, through all your years of leal service. As if chasing the one I had confided in utterly during the dark, hopeless days of the civil war, I ignored your consistent, reassuring presence, content with that of my uncle even as he grew increasingly distant following his resignation from his position as Lord Protector. More than any of the members of the privy council, more than any of the sycophants in the army I have to blindly serve my every whim, I trust you. I consider you¡­ my friend, perhaps the first man I have considered such in all of my long life. I ask of you, my friend, not as the Empress, nor your sovereign, nor even as your overlord, but as one human being to another, to consider me a friend as well.¡± The Empress¡¯s almost joyful expression broke into a wide smile as she confided her trust in him, her pallid complexion almost visibly shining with the brilliant light of the noon time sun. It had surely taken a great deal of courage for her to confide in someone after the emotional turmoil caused by her uncle¡¯s betrayal had so viciously rattled her psyche. It was a boon to the Empire for her to move beyond her dependence on her uncle, to find new and hopefully more loyal supporters and friends. But how could it be him that she so trusted¡­


    She took his right hand in hers, both of her soft, delicate hands clasping his rough and callused one. Her fingers gently fiddled with his ring, the badge of his office as Lord Protector, as she grasped his hand. He could have sworn he felt the ring heat up as she touched it, his skin tingling from some unknown shock. His face blushed bright crimson at her proximity. In all of his years of knowing her, he had never seen her so candid, so openly yearning for the friendship of another. He wanted to take her hand and promise that he would uphold her trust in all matters, that he would support her rule to the utmost of his ability until his last faltering, dying breath.


    But¡­ he could not return her feelings. She sought someone in which to place her trust, but he had already broken that very trust, betrayed her against even her most urgent pleadings. Her eager, innocent, and trusting gaze should never have been directed so sincerely at a two faced wretch like himself. Every earnest word that spilled from her lips drove an icy dagger, one of greater chill and a finer point than any of her conjured icicles, straight into his heart. He blanched, flinching under her yearning eyes. While inexperienced in candid interactions with people as she was, her guards were not. Unseen behind the great helms so completely obscuring their stern faces, their eyes narrowed. For what reason could a loyal vassal have to so recoil at the earnest promise of his sovereign?


    ¡°I am deeply grateful that you do me such honor, Your Majesty. But this is so sudden¡­ I beg that you grant me time to collect myself so that I may give a more heartfelt answer. Sometime after our imminent peril is eased, I hope. But for now, I must leave to ponder and prepare for the coming battle.¡± Thrust into the spotlight by her unexpected request, he could only think to stall. He would never be worthy of her trust again, but at least after the coming battle she would no longer feel reason to offer him her friendship.


    Her happy expression collapsed into confusion by his unexpected response. While it may have been sudden, knowing his usual passion for his office and his dedication to the Empire, she had assumed that he would be elated to be chosen as her confidant, eager to don the mantle of such a vital role within the Empire. After all of the careful pondering and time spent mustering her courage to make the proposition, it seemed that she had somehow erred, made some unknown mistake that had caused him to recoil at her rather than accept her offer with a smile. Beyond bewilderment, her happy face collapsed back into her usual mask of neutrality, her mind abuzz with chaotic thoughts of self doubt and confusion.


    ¡°Before I go, there was one other matter pertaining to the defense of the city that I wished to seek your council on.¡± He turned as he made to leave, remembering the second reason for why he had sought audience. With a regal nod of her head, the Empress motioned for him to continue.


    ¡°In regards to the defense of the outer city, it will be the thickest and most devastating of the fighting in the coming battle. I have arranged for every member of the Home Guard clad in plate or brigandine to be stationed for its defense. They will be hidden behind barricades or within the rickety houses lining the alleyways, prepared to fall upon the unsuspecting enemy as they pass by. However, they are no more trained in arms than the rest of the Home Guard, despite their superior armor, and are only trained in the use of spears. I despair at their confrontation against our far more skilled enemies, many of whom are armed with great swords, hammers, or halberds. I beg of you, that I may employ the bulk of the Empress Shield in this fighting. While only numbering one thousand men, they are the most experienced men in the entire city, if not the imperial legions as a whole. They are skilled in the use of swords and halberds, the very weapons which I believe will be the most vital in the narrow confines of the outer city.¡± While it betrayed his principles, he was already long past that particular breaking point, and he requested leave to deploy her guards to the outer city. They were usually reserved solely for the defense of the palace and the Empress¡¯s person, but he shamelessly took advantage of her sincerity and desire for amicable friendship to request their transfer.


    ¡°Without my guards, how will we defend the palace should the curtain wall fall? You should be well informed by now of the consequences should the spire be taken.¡± The Empress frowned, unsure of his intentions with her bodyguards.


    She knew that Nathaniel held reservations of the quality of the men of the Home Huard, and should the curtain wall fall, the inner wall was but a trifling obstacle, and the palace would be the sole line of defense left in the city. The the Empress¡¯s Shield were the only men she could trust to defend the palace, to their dying breath if necessary, and would surely be necessary there in the battle to come. Should they suffer grievous losses that could have been borne instead by the more expendable men of the Home Guard, the security of the palace, and therefore the Spire, would be jeopardized, spelling untold disaster for the Empire as a whole.


    ¡°Be that as it may, Your Majesty, their great skill at arms would be best served keeping the enemy out of the city entirely. If they cannot break the curtain wall, they cannot threaten the palace.¡± It took every ounce of determination he possessed to respond to her sincerity without flinching even as he lied through his teeth.


    The most effective lies were those couched in truth. It was true that the elite Empress¡¯s Shield would be of far greater use to him defending the outer city than the palace. This was of course, because he planned to abandon the city entirely at the fall of the curtain wall, and that therefore there would be no last stand at the palace at all, rather than the mere thousand men of the Empress Shield being able to hold back a professional army numbering in the tens of thousands by themselves. Of course, their losses incurred during such a heroic defense of the outer city would also be of use, noble sacrifices made to ensure that he could escape the city with Empress in tow after its abandonment, even if he had to drag her kicking and screaming.


    ¡°I am not entirely convinced that this is the wisest course of action, but I will defer to your greater experience and judgement Nathaniel.¡± She granted his request with the barest consideration, entirely unsuspecting of his ulterior motives.


    ¡°Thank you, Your Majesty. Then, if I may have your leave, I will set to finalizing the plans for our defense. Please trust me when I say that all I do is for your safety and for that of the continued prosperity of our great Empire. To my last breath, I will not allow you to die in this coming battle.¡± With a final bow and her acknowledgement with a nod of her head, he left.


    He may betray her trust so severely that she can never confide in another again, but he will ensure, no matter the cost, whether in lives lost, the suffering of many, or the eternal anguish of one, that she will survive. Not only will she survive, but she will thrive, fueled by a hellish mixture of hate and anger, and bolstered by the hardened survivors of the battle for the city reinforced by the recalled eastern legions. It may cost him everything, there was no reality he envisioned in which she did not claim his head for this he knew, but she will have the strength she needs.


    Not merely would she have strength enough to fight back, but to win, grinding her enemies to dust beneath her feet. Her victory will be so grand that the Duke will surely be erased from history entirely, his glorious past and great deeds forgotten in the wake of a swift and brutal end. The Aachish menace will be beaten back, scarred so badly that they never again dare to cross the border with war in their hearts, frightened so greatly that the invocations of the title of the Empress of Albion becomes a curse, a horror story with which to scare children. Nathaniel¡¯s eyes were feverish as he left, leaving a confused yet saddened Empress and several increasingly suspicious guards in his wake.

 Chapter Nine

    Five days later, amidst a particularly frigid late autumn frosting, they came. Marching under the cover of darkness, they escaped the shrouded boughs of the forest¡¯s ancient sentinels at a sedate pace. The glow of their torches blinked into iridescent light as the obscuring cover faded, appearing like a pack of wolves suddenly brought into the light, predatory eyes shining brightly into the night. They were too far from the city to be observed leaving the forest by eye, at least not beneath the enshroudment of night¡¯s veil. The way ahead had already been scouted by rangers from among the Duke¡¯s retainers, experienced woodsmen that had gone ahead of even the vanguard and diligently scoured the forest to ensure neither spies nor ambushers in the employ of the Empress lay in wait. Not a man atop Maegwyn¡¯s walls perceived the infiltrating column as they stepped out onto the plains.And so they acted with neither caution nor haste, marching calmly and leisurely, knowing none would dare to oppose them in their fell purpose. Save for a vigilant few, none among them wore arms or armor if they had the means, storing it aboard the various covered wagons they marched beside.


    Despite the lateness of the hour, they continued to march, caring naught for either weather or visibility. The Duke and the general of the Aachish mercenaries had come to an understanding some hours prior regarding their planned route. While their men may have been better rested if they had encamped within the forest one final time before leaving its close embrace the following day, they would have been in plain sight of the city all the while as they left. If the defenders of Maegwyn took to the field to meet them at the forest road¡¯s precariously narrow outlet, the column would be unable to bring its full might to bear and would likely suffer grievous harm. No matter the condition of their men, with victory so close at hand, neither the Duke nor the Aachish commanders could conscience such a risk in the final hour.


    Instead, concealed from prying eyes, they hoped to affect an orderly withdrawal from the forest. It would be hours yet for the rest of the column to reach the plains of the capital region, but by the time they had done so the vanguard would have already arranged for the army¡¯s permanent encampment for the duration of the siege. The men would be exhausted, but by the time the veil of night lifted the newly awakened forces of the Empress would find an enemy army fully deployed into the plains, encamped within the protective embrace of numerous trenchworks and a sturdy palisade. No man would be so foolish as to attack such a superior force when safely entrenched, and their men could have a leisurely day of rest to recover their strength from the grueling march.


    Gaunt of face and with shadowed, hollow eyes, seemingly endless ranks of men cleared the forest. Their long march had not been one of ease, and every man among them bore the marks of the tribulation it had so painfully carved upon their flesh. Illuminated in the dim moonlight were their clothes, stained dark with mud from their journey, ends fraying, and the bulk covered by disjointed blocks of colored fabric marking where holes and tears had been crudely repaired. Weak and hungry from the rationing the long days of their march had necessitated, their bodies trembled in the cold. The arms of men came together, grasping their own shoulders, thoroughly starved for warmth in the chill night.


    While they had faced far greater deprivations on previous nights, with rain soaking their clothes and sapping the heat from their very bones, it had been much warmer then. This night however, the wind howled and sapped away at their precious body heat as they marched, and they were so very far away from the great fires of an encampment. It would be no great surprise if many fell this night, whether they were the long sick, finally brought over the edge by this sudden chill, or were those losing the motivation to go on, weeks of perilous march finally culminating in the spontaneous collapse of men upon the side of the road, unwilling to go on. With neither fire nor shelter, none that fell in such exhausted heaps would survive the night, succumbing to the elements and lying as morbid warnings to their fellows that lived on. Occasionally they may be aided, picked up and supported by their companions as they marched. But every man among the column was already thoroughly exhausted and these were hard men. If they were given to such naive sentiment in the first place, they likely would never have followed their liege into betrayal.


    In stark contrast to the dour and gaunt expressions of the Duke¡¯s men, were the seemingly eternally jovial Aachish mercenaries. Most were well used to weather of ill favor and had great experience upon campaign marching far from the boundaries of friendly lands. As such thhey had come well prepared. Their layers of heavy and gaudy cloth had supported them in good stead among the endless delays of the past weeks, the thick layers of cotton and linen effectively cutting the biting chill of the wind and keeping them warm in the worst of conditions.


    While the Duke¡¯s own men may have balked at the thought of despoiling their fellow countrymen, neither the Aachish mercenaries nor the Duke himself whom they served held such petty qualms. Every village they chanced upon along their route was pillaged by blade and fire, the animals and treasure therein stolen while the people were defiled. The majority of the killing in these raids had been performed by the mercenaries, and therefore to them went the lionshare of the spoils, leaving the Duke¡¯s men with barely enough to supplement their meager rations, while the men of Aachenwald were kept well fed. Flush with treasure and silver from both the Duke¡¯s freely flowing war chest and the spoils seized from every village they crossed, the Aachish mercenaries remained high in spirit despite the ill circumstance of the march.


    Men with closely shaven faces, armed with billhooks and scythes or hastily made  halberds crafted from implements of agriculture marched besides the mercenaries. These men wore no armor but that scavenged from the fallen, adorned in all manner of peasant dress, but with their clothes slashed and adorned with bolts of linen in a crude effort to bring their appearances to that more in line with the men of Aachenwald whom they aped in both manner and dress. These were men of Albion, having seemingly forgone the centuries of enmity and bad blood between the two peoples to stand shoulder to shoulder with the object of their national hatred as they marched in rebellion against their fellow countrymen.


    Being at the forefront of battle, the Aachish mercenaries had been granted the right to recruit those willing from the local populace to replenish their losses and to even expand their ranks. Despite the barbarity of the mercenaries, joining their ranks ensured a man could survive the coming winter even as his entire fortune and livelihood was stolen at the point of their blades. Between the offers of food or silver and promises of succor for the families of the men so enlisted, the mercenaries had nearly doubled their number by the time the army reached Maegwyn.


    While beginning as but a small fraction of his forces, the numbers of the Aachish mercenaries had swelled enough to begin exerting considerable pressure among the Duke¡¯s army. Despite his high status as a feudal lore, he debased himself currying the favor of these low born peasants, acquiescing to their petty whims and flights of fancy all in effort to ensure that they remained amongst the most motivated of his army. They were loyal to none but coin, and while the Duke could afford to cause affront to his sworn bannermen, the lot of them having forgone any hope of redemption in the eyes of the Empress against whom they rebelled and owing fealty to the Duke, he could not do so to those imported from foreign lands. No matter the honeyed promises of the King of Aachenwald nor the reputation of the mercenaries, if he did not go to great lengths to keep them appeased and in good form then they would surely retreat or rise up against him, or even worse seek employ in the service of the Empress.


    Despite the confidence of the army¡¯s leaders however, their passing had not been made unseen. While the flowing light of their lanterns was far too distant to sight from the city with the naked eye, mere mortal men were not the only ones standing watch. From the peak of the Spire, the rolling plains of the capital region remained visible for miles upon miles. By day, if not by night, the outlet of the forest road was in clear sight from such a vantage, and even in the depths of night the flickering glow of a lantern would be visible with but little aid. While the art of scrying upon her foes though esoteric means may have been denied to the Empress by her more skilled opponent, the delicate artifice of glass and steel lying within her study relied upon naught but physical principles.


    A rare contraption of recent devising, normally employed to study the motions of heavenly bodies, it had reached the Empress¡¯s hands through her extensive network of scholarly contacts. Having had her preferred means of observation so uncouthly stymied, she had at once organized a constant vigil of the outlet of King Hagar¡¯s Way using the tool, a magnificent eyepiece, and a rotation of her handmaidens. A tool meant to gaze upon the heavens far beyond the clouds would be able to sight to fine detail that but a scant few miles away after all. With a loud exclamation of relief, as soon as the handmaiden on duty that night had confirmed the sighting of hundreds of flickering torches and lanterns illuminating the night, she had rushed to inform the Empress.


    ¡°Your Majesty, the enemy for which you have waited these long hours has arrived.¡± Bowing low in supplication one of the Empress¡¯s handmaidens reported, a woman by the name of Clara of meek demeanor and dressed in the garb of a humble servant. Dark rings hung beneath her eyes, evidence of the long and tired hours for which she had stood watch.


    ¡°Thank you Clara, you have well earned your rest tonight. Please inform the others that they will no longer need to stand watch, the wait is over at last. I shall handle things myself from here.¡± The Empress dismissed her servant with a grateful heart.


    ¡°But before you go, please deliver this to the palace couriers, it is for Nathaniel. I know not his exact whereabouts at this moment, but they should possess means enough to locate him even at this dark hour.¡± After quickly penning a note to apprise Nathaniel of the sighting of enemy forces, she handed it to her servant and gestured for her to leave. Hopefully after she had delivered the missive, she would be able to claim the rest she so deserved.


    The mundane observation, while performed by necessity, was horridly dull and demanded an uncomfortable shift of the sleeping schedule for her servants. For the past week they had stood and gazed upon one particular spot through her eyepiece for hours upon hours, their legs weak and half lidded eyes ever gaining in weight, almost impossible to keep open throughout their long shifts. They would be beyond ecstatic at the news of finally being released from such burdensome duties. With an internal sigh that she did not let past her lips, the Empress rose from the plush chair upon which she had been ensconced and strode purposefully to an isolated chamber beneath the very roof of the Spire itself. The room lay at the end of a corridor bereft of either decoration or light, possessing neither apertures to admit sunlight and moonlight nor brackets upon the wall for the hanging of torches or lanterns.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    She walked slowly, her way illuminated solely by the weak light of a small lantern held tightly in her hand. Upon reaching the chamber¡¯s entrance at the end of the corridor she stopped, reaching not for the thick oaken portal of the chamber¡¯s entrance, but rather feeling along the rough stone of the wall. As her wandering hand felt one stone in particular of but little resistance she pushed. The stone depressed into the wall with a grating sound at the same time as a patch of the bare stone wall of the corridor swung inward, revealing a secret entrance to a hidden chamber. After clambering through the revealed entranceway, the stone sealed shut once more, plunging the lonely corridor again into total darkness.


    The secret chamber was of modest size in comparison to the rest of the Empress¡¯s palatial rooms, but was so densely packed with miscellaneous items it seemed much larger. It was as if anything in the world could be found within its stony confines. Shelves stood tall, huddled close within the dimensions of the room with barely three handsbreadths between each. Upon each shelf was an eclectic combination of loose items, such as sprigs or cuttings of plants or finely crafted and irregularly shaped constructs of stone. They stood beside countless tomes, neatly placed upon the shelves and supported with heavy stone bookends to prevent their falling. These books held names both mundane and of evil repute, possessing a mixture of both accounts of natural philosophy and the fell deeds of conjurers past, many of which were held in contempt for touching upon the darker nature of the forces beyond mortal ken.


    Ores of various types lay about the room haphazardly, some appearing rather plain and dull, barely distinguishable from ordinary stone, while others pierced through by richly covered veins shone brilliantly, reflected by the flickering light of her lantern. From the ceiling hung hundreds of varieties of both herbs and flowers, each expertly pressed and dried, tightly bound with string to the ceiling forming a veritable canopy of greenery just above her head. In a corner stood a thoroughly abused workbench, its scarred surface covered in scratches, dents, and furrows inflicted by the tools of the witch¡¯s trade. Awls and mortars, hammers and chisels, needles and spun steel sat upon shelves nailed into the rear of the workbench. In the center of the chamber, a solitary moonbeam emanating from a small hole drilled into the wall from the inside, cast its lonely light upon the seemingly sole location of bare stone floor, the rest lying feet deep under layers of tomes or items too large to fit onto the shelves. What little stone that could be so spied from beneath the clutter was of grainy texture and charred black, covered in patches of soot and half scrubbed powder or chalk so deeply that it had permanently stained the stone.


    The Empress moved cautiously as she entered the room, stepping carefully amidst a clutter so disorganized that none but her could ever hope to locate anything within. In the center of the room lay an ancient grimoire, revealed under the flickering light of the lantern upon a lectern presiding over the bare stone. Its text was timeworn and barely legible from what could quite possibly be centuries of active use, but seemed to gleam bright red in the light, perhaps desperate to be gazed upon, to be used by one of her abilities. But it would be unnecessary for that night¡¯s working, a crafting she had long since ingrained into her mind from hundreds of such prior constructs.


    It would be but a simple affair, requiring only slight alterations to the clouds above already blanketing the sky. It would incur naught but a trifling cost whether in ingredients or energy. It would be far less expensive than a more direct attack upon the foe, as so hoped for by Nathaniel, would be, and with far greater effect. So many among the uninitiated valued not the subtleties of her craft when compared to the flashy but of minimal impact workings of those petty rogues of little ability gallivanting about claiming themselves conjurors.


    Within minutes every reagent that she would need had been assembled and thoroughly macerated, formed into a fine powder that gleamed under the light of her lantern. With practiced strokes, the powder was applied by a wetted brush to the bare stone of the floor in an intricate pattern, reminiscent of a snowflake and of no less complexity or delicateness. Upon the completion of the final stroke, the powder was lit by careful application of her lantern, the entire sigil then being rapidly consumed within a bright conflagration. The brightly colored smoke so emitted by the fire, rather than filling the room as may normally have been expected, was propelled with force out of the small hole in the stone wall. It chased the shining moon beam out into the night sky, rising higher and higher as if seeking the moonlight.


    With a weary sigh, the Empress left the room as she had found it, thoroughly drained from the ritual. The battle would begin upon the morrow it seemed, at least from the reported disposition of the foe. Unless her working could affect a small miracle, then the mettle of her soldiery would be sorely tested. A pang went through her heart as she recalled Nathaniel, so unsure of their chances. It would be a tragedy if all those lives of the people of the city, her people, were wasted in a vain attempt to defend the Spire. But it had to be done, if not for the sake of the city¡¯s populace, then for the sake of the Empire as a whole. But for now, such heavy topics weighed too heavily upon her mind. She was exhausted from the ritual, its mystic intricacies having taken a heavy toll both upon her mind and upon her stamina. Tonight she would rest and recover, action and pondering would wait for the morrow.


    Dry and languid clouds sat high in the sky, arrogantly intercepting the gleaming light of the all seeing moon. These clouds grew darker as they were joined by colorful, shining smoke rising from the Spire, becoming fat with water as the air¡¯s vapor condensed and caused them to sag. The moon¡¯s light grew dimmer as the engorged clouds grew and became more opaque, greedily devouring its light as they plunged the land into an even deeper darkness. They grew to such great size that they hung low, dipping towards the earth as suspended water and ice became rain set to pour upon the land.


    It was barely felt at first, single droplets quickly absorbed by cloth or pattering faintly off of the helms of men too exhausted to listen. But droplet by droplet it fell, gaining in both volume and intensity as it plunged down upon the weary and unsuspecting men below. It came down as a sleeting shower of half frozen liquid, ushering in waves of icy chill upon those poor unfortunate souls caught within its cold embrace.


    In the city of Maegwyn, the rain was felt with but minimal effect. The Home Guard quartered within barracks constructed of stout and sturdy timbers were unaffected by its chill entirely. The droplets that struck against the heavy walls of their shelter merely bounced off or were arrested entirely, dripping down the beams until they fell to the earth.


    The peasant levy, being housed in mere campaigning tents, were slightly more impacted by the rains. Lying asleep in their large tents of oiled canvas, twelve men to a tent, each suffered from the chill seeping through the porous fabric of their shelter, clutching woolen blankets tightly about themselves to gain succor from the icy air. They would not be happy that night, so beset by fell chill, but they would survive.


    The patrolmen in the streets and the sentries atop the wall cursed their ill luck, turning broad brimmed hats down or burrowing deep into their woolen cloaks in an effort to escape the rains, counting down the hours until they could return to the comforting fires of the gatehouse or the warm beds of the barracks. It was a thoroughly miserable time to be compelled by duty to stay alert, and their attention slackened in the face of a seemingly endless sheet of chill water. But while their attention may be sapped, and their motivation diminished, they had warm places to rest and beds to return to.


    The water fallen across the city, whether hitting the cobbled stones of the pavement or dripping down from the walls of its buildings, collected in small shallow puddles in the streets. As these puddles gained in height, they would flow compelled by gravity and drained away, for the majority at least, into the city¡¯s sewers. The ancient center of urbanity held a robust means of drainage, and even against such ensorcelled rains it held strong, diverting the ongoing deluge safely into the river and avoiding flooding in all but a few sections of the outer city. Every droplet of water must have a final destination however, and what entered the sewers was redirected to the river bisecting the city, contributing to the slow but steady rise in its level as its roiling mass swelled.


    In great contrast to the alacrity with which Maegwyn as a whole withstood the rains, in the marching column of the Duke¡¯s army the storm was felt with dread and terror. Men already exhausted and cold from their long journey, became thoroughly soaked as they marched, covered in a layer of icy rime that drove the cold deep into their very bones. In most circumstances this may have been that of mere annoyance, but by this point the men so drenched were weak and weary, compelled by their leaders to continue their march even into the chill evening and ever so far from the welcoming embrace of warm bonfires.


    Urgency then overcame most of the column. It was unusual to march at night in even the best of weather, and now they marched under the unmerciful gaze of father winter himself. Despite the month lying within the midst of autumn the cold prevailed, as if the heavens themselves opposed their cause. The vanguard began to set up the tents immediately rather than continuing to advance, knowing the cost of a delay upon tent and shelter within the storm¡¯s icy grip. To this effect, they made brief their scouring of the land in search of locations of advantage, and set the foundations of the encampment much farther from the city than had been planned.


    Their encampment thus rose atop a small rise upon the plans, although much of its bulk would inevitably stretch into the lowlands owing to the limited quantity of elevated terrain. High ground was sparse amidst the fertile farmlands of Albion¡¯s capital region, and many of the tents forced by circumstance into the lower elevations would be at risk of flooding. The icy rain was only slowly absorbed by the ground, its bulk semi hardened from the late autumn chill, reaching saturation quickly in the deluge. Soon the water would cease being absorbed altogether and collect together in puddles upon the earth.


    As the rains fell, the men of the column grew incensed, with only the dour but diligent sworn men at arms and knights of the Duke¡¯s bannermen keeping discipline enough to stay in good order. The column fell apart in a chaotic tangle as for the majority discipline crumbled, the men scrambling for shelter from the rain, seeking either cover or breaking formation in a dash for the camp. Supply wagons were cast aside entirely, the horses left forgotten or attended only by those vassals of the Duke still possessing calm and wisdom, or otherwise used by shivering men as improvised cover against the rains. The forest road became littered by weapons or luggage hastily cast aside that had been deemed more burdensome than valuable.


    The army¡¯s cohesion dissolved entirely within the chaos, much to the chagrin of the Duke. Through all of his carefully cultivated preparations and countless meetings and discussions amongst his influential officers, he had hoped to march with strength and swiftness against the unprepared forces of the Empress. If all had proceeded according to plan, they would have been caught off guard by his aggressive maneuver, helpless to resist as he swept over their outer defenses checked only by the archaic stone bulk of the city¡¯s curtain wall. However from the rapid disintegration of order in the midst of mere rain, it seemed that the army would be in no shape to wage war against the Empress the following day. Perhaps mercenaries motivated more by coin and personal comfort than loyalty or belief in a cause had been a poor choice for such a great portion of his army.

 Chapter Ten

    The pale light of dawn meekly shining through obscuring clouds laden heavy with rain roused the people of Maegwyn from their slumber to a dreary morning beset by damp and chill weather. The rain clung to every surface, dampening timbers and stone alike, collecting in small puddles in the street. Here and there a man would dash through the streets, heedless of caution and dousing bystanders with chill and dirty water, earning angry cries and looks of consternation. It was a thoroughly miserable day to brave the elements outside the protective embrace of a stout roof, and many cursed their ill luck to still be sent upon patrols or to training. But the ill weather was not the only unpleasantness the waking people of the city were greeted with that morning.


    A loud cry arose from the sentries posted atop the city¡¯s curtain wall as the dull gray beams of a sickly sun touched down upon the land and revealed something in the plains only a few miles distant from the city. It was a war camp, one that while showing evident signs of a hurried construction, lacking the palisade wall or abatis commonly found in most modern day encampments, was still something that had been erected within sight of the city with none to witness its assembly.


    While the enemy had been expected for many weeks by that point, none had predicted them to appear in such good order, and especially not within a single night. It was shocking, a bold and aggressive maneuver from the Duke in his bid to take the city unawares. Being in his twilight year at the venerable age of seventy five, many would have deemed such bold tactics impossible coming from one of such advanced years. Yet it seemed those critics were wrong, and the Duke showed naught his age as he presided over a force now dead set upon the destruction of the city. His mind seemed as sharp as it had ever been during his years of glory fighting to win the throne for his niece, and now that very mind had turned to take it from her.


    The sight of the foe, appearing as if out of the thin air of the dawn¡¯s early light, was far from the only observation that had elicited such worried cries from the sentries. The camp was also shockingly massive, far larger than what the city¡¯s defenders had been told to expect by their commanders. All of the city¡¯s defensive planning up to that point had been based on the official numbers of the Duke¡¯s forces, already quite extensive even compared to the Empire¡¯s legions, yet now it appeared that he had conjured forth even more men to bolster his ranks.


    It seemed that he had either been heavily reinforced by additional musters from his Duchy while en route, or that he and every one of his vassals had been lying to the Empress for years upon the strength of their forces. Both were likely given how connivingly his betrayal had been organized thus far. Even the most vocal optimist amongst the city¡¯s defenders was given just cause to doubt and second guess his chances as the starkly apparent difference in numbers was so flagrantly displayed before the city¡¯s walls.


    The sole saving grace of the reveal of the enemy¡¯s strength, was that at the very least they seemed unlikely to take to the field that day. A constant stream of men were visible traveling from the camp and back to the forest, only to return later with arms laden with something too distant to sight with any clarity. Furthermore, the rain that had begun its tyrannic reign over the skies of Maegwyn had by then seeped into the ground to the point of saturation, forming deep puddles over soft muck. It would be impossible for the enemy to mount even a light probing attack against the city, their yeoman cavalry not daring to risk the lives of their mounts over such unsure terrain.


    The river had, mercifully, only swollen to any considerable degree outside the boundaries of the city, presumably greatly bolstered by Maegwyn¡¯s extensive network of sewer drains. The river cut the sodden plains in twain, its raging bulk having risen to the point its swift and churning water began to erode the earth itself. Rocks, trees, and sometimes even debris stripped from houses within the farmlands surrounding the city had made their way to the river, carried far by the current. The enemy¡¯s avenues through which to mount an attack had been significantly hindered by the impassable hazard the river had become as it formed a barrier, cutting off their access to a full half of the city¡¯s curtain wall as no intact bridges across remained within miles of the city.


    Nathaniel, for his part, woke unpleasantly. He had been forced by necessity the prior week to take up residence within the palace as the approach of the enemy drew near, his manse lying far outside the protective embrace of even the city¡¯s earth works. He sorely missed sleeping in his own bed. The goose down and silk of the palace¡¯s extravagant furnishings may have been the lap of luxury for some, but as an old soldier and a man of rather humble origins, he had always preferred bedding of more firm substance.


    The fact that his sleep had been so rudely interrupted the night past by a missive from the Empress had not helped matters either. It was not even a matter of any real urgency. While the arrival of the foe may have allowed a canny commander of horse to cripple the enemy as they erected their camp, and therefore exact a great victory even against their numerical and qualitative odds, the conjuration of the Empress had made the use of any cavalry rather unwise. Furthermore, the few horsemen the city did still number among its defenders were all of dubious loyalty, being either aristocrats in their own right or their retainers.


    No, she had informed him solely so that another would bear the responsibility of distributing the message in her place, and he in being not only the Lord Protector, but also currently dwelling within the palace, made him a rather convenient victim. It was a clear abuse of authority, a dreadful tyranny, one he could only assume had been made deliberately by that petty witch with the fell intent to ruin his rest. It was as if she truly believed that he had not sacrificed enough for the safety of Empire and Empress already. Some days, he truly loathed his title.


    Donning his thick woolen cloak over his casual linens, well aware of the mess awaiting him outside, he left the guest room he had been residing within deep inside the palace keep, and made way to the Spire. As distasteful as he found the trek, the Empress held miraculous means by which he could observe the enemy camp in the light of day, as gray and weak as that day¡¯s light may be. He would be a fool to forgo such great advantage upon the very eve of battle for a mere fear of heights, no matter the terrifying and unusual yearning he seemed to feel from the watery depths beneath the Spire¡¯s great bridge.


    Firmly closing his eyes, with both of his hands tightly clutching onto one of the bridge¡¯s railings he safely affected a crossing, reaching the Spire¡¯s entrance thoroughly wet and miserable, but very much alive and whole. It was a true curiosity how his feelings of yearning for the depths seemed to disappear the moment he no longer gazed upon the raging currents of the river, but he could not bear to ponder the mystery. No good would ever come of seeking answers to a phenomenon that had once before almost brought him to his death. He was no augur meant to chase auspicious omens, but a soldier firmly set upon the real and practical after all.


    Needing no guide at that point, he swiftly ascended the tower stairs and boldly entered the Empress¡¯s chambers in search of her study. It was early in the morning, and he knew well from long acquaintance that she would never dredge herself from peaceful slumber at such an early hour, at least not if she could at all help it. He passed through the remains of her sitting room. While the debris from her rampage a month prior had been long removed, the scratches upon the finish of the door and desk still remained, and there was a distinct lack of furnishings as he passed through on his way to the reading room. Unsure of the layout of the Empress¡¯s chambers beyond that point, he cast his gaze about the large interior, searching for the door to her study, but was interrupted by a loud coughing sound.  It was sharp and irritating upon his ears, clearly made to gain his attention judging from the great volume and brief duration.


    ¡°Looking for something?¡± A light voice queried ¨C the Empress.


    As he turned his head, alerted by the cough, he sighted her. Dressed in a robe of thin silk, caring naught at all for the cold he noted, she sat inclined upon a plush sofa, nursing a mug of mulled wine. Curiously it seemed he had caught her truly in a state of relaxation, for there were neither tomes nor notes nor any other such writings strewn on the table before her. She must have had much the same pleasant morning as himself, he noted, casually observing the dark rings beneath her half lidded eyes.


    ¡°Indeed Your Majesty. I was in fact, searching for your study. I would gaze upon the foe with your famed eyepiece so that I may devise our plans for the coming battle.¡± He answered calmly, daring not to provoke her ire upon sighting her rather bedraggled appearance, knowing that he had overstepped his bounds enough already by entering her rooms with neither escort nor invitation.


    ¡°My eyepiece, I see. I suppose I should commend your initiative Nathaniel, but my uncle has encamped near enough the walls that you surely could have observed from there instead of disturbing my rest.¡± She seemed less than pleased at his presence, likely unhappy that he had seen her in a rare quiet moment of rest. While she may have chosen to hide little of her true nature from him, he had since decided to spurn her offer of friendship. It seemed in poor taste to be forced to tolerate his presence within her chambers even as she sought solace from the preparations for the coming battle.


    ¡°I notice you have come unescorted, have you some cause for dissatisfaction with my handmaidens? Surely you are not in such haste to be unable to wait for them to guide your way.¡± The Empress craned her neck to gaze behind him, presumably searching for one of her servants. Her voice sounded calm upon the surface, but hidden beneath lay an undercurrent of irritation at his presumption. She was, evidently, rather displeased that her calm morning had been so uncouthly interrupted by the Lord Protector.


    ¡°Your Majesty, please. I beg for your patience. As the foe has only just arrived and there is light enough to gaze upon their movements, it is my duty as the Empire¡¯s Lord Protector to observe their camp with as great detail as I am able. How can I draw up strategies for the city¡¯s defense, if I cannot analyze the enemy before our forces meet in battle? Time is of the essence and I could ill afford to await your handmaidens.¡± He was frustrated by her obstinance, he held no ulterior motive after all. It genuinely was for an important analysis of the foe, made with strategic consideration in mind that he sought access to her rooms, but as he spoke, she seemed to be digging in her heels. Her workings must be rather taxing affairs indeed if she was left in such a state after each and every one.


    ¡°Yet you failed to consider that in doing so, not only would you be trespassing uninvited into a tower in which only women may reside, but also that you would be invading the private chambers of your very own sovereign. You proceed at your own peril Nathaniel. What if I had been indecent as you so boldly flung open those doors with nary a glance to its occupants before swinging them wide?¡± Her eyes narrowed at his apparent nonchalance and unrepentant posture for committing such a grave sin. Her cheeks tinted a faint rosy red as her mind turned to the thought of such scandal. Her embarrassment was almost enough to make her forget her previous ire at the one who had so disturbed her much needed rest.


    ¡°Your Majesty, you are advanced in years enough that you could be my own mother, and yet you possess youthful guise and vitality enough that you could be my daughter. Let alone myself, not even the most deviant in the Empire would dare to possess impure designs upon one with such an uncanny appearance. For your own dignity, please do not delude yourself with such nonsense, it is unbecoming for such a wise old crone as yourself.¡± Nathaniel struggled to hold back his laughter at her naivete.


    Sometimes, it was almost as if she genuinely forgot all of her decades of worldly experience, as if her mental state truly reverted to that of her youthful appearance. It was rather unsettling. None would ever dare to even think such scandalous thoughts of the Empress, no matter what imaginings her na?ve mind could conjure forth. Most viewed her as a benevolent tyrant at best, someone who would ruthlessly wield scale and sword for the betterment of all even as she mercilessly left scores of the dead lying in her wake. At worst, they thought her an evil monster, one that laughed as she drunk the blood of slaughtered women and children. How could any man have ever dared to possess thoughts beyond that of mere fear or respect towards such a person?


    Every man in the Empire feared incurring her wrath, and dared not do her disrespect even within the sanctum of their very minds. Every man except for himself of course. Being as close with her as he was despite his futile attempts to maintain a distance between them, it was impossible for him to maintain the feelings of dread and awe he had once held towards her. Back when he had served as a mere captain in the civil war, she had seemed an icon, a great figure straight out of a storybook with her idealism and ruthlessness towards the rest of her family. It was inevitable that he had put her on a pedestal at the time, but she was far from imposing behind closed doors. She was uncouth and petty, vain as any young woman despite her advanced years. Taking into account her sheltered upbringing and her insular nature, she was also rather socially inept and acted with extreme clumsiness when engaging with any not cowed by her fearsome persona.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°You ungrateful bastard! And to think, I deigned to extend my hand in friendship to the miserable likes of one such as yourself.¡± His dour face was met with a plush pillow hurled with some force by an indignant Empress as she shrieked in dissatisfaction.


    It would seem that barely stifling a laugh after she had managed to embarrass herself, followed by comparing her to an old crone, had been a rather poor decision on his part. Expressionless, he looked at the pillow indented with a depression in the shape of his face, before gently setting it down on a nearby chair. Alas, at least it was a pillow this time and not an icicle thrown with deadly intent. While it still twisted like a knife in his guts as she once more referred to her offer to open up to him in the name of friendship, at least this time he had managed to avoid flinching. She was even seemingly regretting her previous offer as she hurled insults and objects, enraged by his lack of tact. Perfect. It would make his betrayal easier for the both of them if she regretted her actions.


    ¡°Your Majesty, do you intend to aid me in my defense of the city, as per your command, or are you content to sit prettily and berate me for daring to conduct my due diligence in your name?¡± He cut to the point rather undiplomatically, completely ignoring her angrily flashing eyes and the embarrassment writ across her face.


    She did not deign to even verbally respond to his deliberate provocation, as if angered beyond capacity for words, merely pointing her right index finger at one of the innocuous and unassuming wooden doors half hidden by shelves in the back of the room. Nodding to her in brief acknowledgement and gratitude for setting aside her petty anger, Nathaniel leisurely strode to the door and entered the room, taking the time to securely shut it behind him. It would not do to eavesdrop on the sovereign of the land easing her anger towards himself through, frankly excessive, bouts of cursing. He was rather uninterested in learning the various pronunciations of the word bastard, nor was he keen upon her uniquely insightful musings into his parentage.


    The study was far neater than that of the Empress¡¯s other chambers. A grand mahogany desk lay in the center of the room, inlaid with artistic flourishes in a thoroughly luxurious display of wealth. Upon its smoothly polished surface were neatly arranged reams of parchment, covered in notes of small, all but illegible to his inexperienced eye, but graceful and refined script nonetheless. In the corner of the room lay a single narrow portal inset to the wall for the admission of light, at that moment occupied by a construct he had never before seen, made of glass and steel. It was not much to look at, the Empress¡¯s eyepiece, but it was capable of nigh miraculous feats if her boasts held even a sliver of truth. The chill wind from the opening blew gently across his face as he walked across the room¡¯s plush carpet to the device. Bending down, he craned his head towards its glass lens, lining up an inquisitive eye to the exquisitely magnified scenery contained therein.


    Shown in fine detail, as if he were standing a mere hundred yards distant instead of that of several miles, the plains and forest were revealed. Having never before used such a wondrous device, Nathaniel was quickly enthralled by its capabilities. If every scout among the Empress¡¯s legions was so equipped with means of far seeing, their forces would suffer neither ambush nor deceitful stratagem, able to confront the foe with perfect awareness of their disposition. After the coming war was over, perhaps he could convince the Empress to sponsor the mass production of such devices. Catching himself lost within his thoughts of appreciation, Nathaniel turned the eyepiece, following the beaten and overgrown track stretching far from the forest to the capital.


    At last he found the first sight of the enemy, starting in small groups of three or four they scurried back and forth from the road to the forest, bearing bundles of cloth and steel. Under the faint warmth of day, the men seemed to show little concern for the yet falling rain, but it was clear that something had happened last night under the Empress¡¯s working. No disciplined army would abandon the supplies it needs for its own defense and longevity in the middle of a forest after all.


    Casting his gaze about once more, he sighted several wagons, wheels broken and swarming with men attempting to affix replacements. Seemingly these wagons had become mucked down amongst the newly made mud, and the wheels had cracked trying to free them. Unfortunately, it was likely the Duke¡¯s men had by this time become masters of the fixing of wagons and marching through muddy terrain, and despite the fact several wagons were laid up it was doubtful it would severely impact the foe¡¯s logistics. Upon the wagons lay crates and boxes stacked high, or heaps of pikes bundled and protected from the elements with small cloth sacks bound about their pointed heads.


    It would seem that the complications of a late night march had left the foe in no state to pursue battle if they were leaving veritable armories behind in the forest. That was excellent news, Nathaniel noted with a satisfied smile, happy that the Empress¡¯s working had seemed to be effective. While he held no doubt that the bulk of their forces would be in no shape after a such a grueling march to immediately attack the city, the lighter and less burdened elements of their army were another matter entirely.


    Whether the woodsmen and rangers that made up the bulk of the Duke¡¯s longbowmen, or the yeomen cavalry that formed the army¡¯s far ranging force of reconnaissance, both groups were unlikely to have been much affected by the inclement weather. They were not heavily armored and both groups were well experienced in traversing dense woodland and adverse terrain. Had the Duke been so motivated, he likely could have brought them to attack the earth works that morning. The greatest peril the Empress¡¯s strategy had held was the chance that the enemy would ignore the beginning of the rains, charging with their light horse against the city before the sustained rainfall had fully turned the fertile plains to nigh impassable muck. But it seemed that would not be an issue, the rains having cause sufficient logistical difficulty to thoroughly cow the Duke¡¯s forces into first establishing a fortified encampment rather than seizing the initiative with a rapid offensive.


    Satisfied with his observation, the eyepiece moved on, following along but a little farther up the road. A large camp lay centered atop a small hill, the center of which was crested with great and opulent tents dyed in crimson and gold, the colors of the Duke of Brackenweir. Emanating radially from the command tents at the center were scores of smaller tents for the housing of small groups of soldiers or single knights and their squires. These smaller tents were themselves arranged in groups, clustering together in clumps of five or six about great fires shared for mutual warmth and cooking.


    Far more tents were present among the camp than he would have expected from merely the Duke¡¯s army joined by ten thousand mercenaries. It seemed that at some point the betrayer¡¯s forces had been reinforced, from either newly risen traitors from Brackenweir, or fresh mercenary regiments recruited from Aachenwald. Given that no news had as of yet reached the capital from the fifth and sixth legions dispatched to the west even a month passed, it was likely the situation there had degraded to a point almost as perilous as that in Maegwyn.


    While the dwellings of those men sworn to the Duke maintained an orderly appearance and layout, being designed with conventional patterns of colored stripes and chevrons made only with cheap dyes and lying in neat and organized rows, the rest were not so structured. Great billowing tents dyed in all gaudy manner of outrageous colors, with deep saffron red, royal purple, and gossamer threads of silver and gold all in abundance, lay in a haphazard tangle. They were very closely packed together, at times their supporting stakes and rope lines become intertwined, but were oriented in a convention that defied all sense of symmetry or order. They seemed to have been erected especially densely in places of slight elevation, usually with a singular tent set upon the apex and the others clustered about it, as if each was jockeying for the highest positions in the camp.


    Throughout the camp, life moved with hive like activity as men worked. Whether expanding drainage ditches, ferrying water from sections of the camp that had flooded overnight, or affixing wooden beams in a steadily expanding palisade at the camp¡¯s perimeter, the inhabitants were perpetually engaged. While the rains may have dampened their spirits, and had for a certainty saved the city from any rapid assault by the army¡¯s lighter elements, it seemed that the foe was determined, and would not be stopped by any mere storm. While the pikemen and halberdiers of the army diligently set upon the half constructed camp with fervor, eager to act now that the objective of their campaign was in sight, the longbowmen and crossbowmen of the army trained. Arrayed in multiple arenas with varieties of target the missile troops shot, evidently preparing with great severity for the coming battle in which they would be the deciding factor.


    From his, admittedly brief but well informed observation, one made from drawing upon all of his long years of experience, there could be as many as sixty thousand men encamped under the gaze of the eyepiece. It was a colossal number, as great as three of the Empress¡¯s legions assembled together at full strength. It was such a large number, it beggared belief as his head spun trying to conceive of how every man was fed. It could only be from pillage, the autumn harvest of perhaps dozens of villages and towns seized, leaving tens of thousands to starve over the coming winter, all to serve the petty ambition of one man.


    Things were far worse than he had originally feared, he noted with a grimace. With sixty thousand men, it would not matter their preparations or even the Empress¡¯s workings, the foe could overwhelm them with naught but the weight of their bodies. With such numbers, the dead could pile up to the very tip of the curtain wall and the foe would simply climb over the corpses of their fallen to reap brutal harvest within the city. A blessing at least was that they remained busy yet. They would have time then, to plan, to prepare for the advent of the foe¡¯s advance.


    Numerous banners of houses sworn to the Duke lay limply within the camp, laden heavy with rain and unable to flutter in the light wind. Curiously, it seemed that those banners presided over far more tents than they should have, seemingly representing forces significantly greater than those that had been reported to the Empress over the years. These would not be hastily assembled peasant levies either, from the appearance of the tents and the armored man sitting idly around burning braziers for warmth they were professional soldiers. It seemed that the Duke¡¯s treachery had not been sudden, but longstanding, as there was no other way for such professional men to have been concealed for so long from the Empress¡¯s eye otherwise.


    This was of particularly dire implication. If his assertion was true, when had the corruption started? When had the rot begun to fully set in? For years the Duke had been considered a stalwart and implacable defender against the western barbarians, the Empire¡¯s bulwark against chaos and terror. But if his principles had lain long compromised by greed or bribery, what had truly occurred over those years past? What fell deeds had escaped the ever watchful eye of the Empress, blinded as they were by trust and familial love?


    While the first legion had been deployed to Brackenweir since the close of the civil war, it was but a token force present to lend imperial credence to the Duke¡¯s bannermen. They were kept at half strength, numbering too few to truly act as true border guards, and evidently, they had been few enough to be incapable of keeping appraised of the Duke¡¯s actions either. Instead, they had always blindly trusted in the integrity of the Duke. But with yet another fresh layer of his treachery revealed, it begged the question of whether he had ever been trustworthy?


    The civil war was but ten years past and here was newly presented evidence that, not just of late, but for years upon years that foolishly trusted man had been engaged in acts of deceit against his sovereign and the people of the Empire. Had he ever been loyal? For all of his lauded service during the civil war, had he been working to undermine the Empress¡¯s cause all that while? Nathaniel¡¯s mind was beset by sadness, confusion, and anger all swirling about chaotically, each vying for dominance as he pondered the implications.


    The Duke had not just betrayed the Empress, he had betrayed Nathaniel as well. Nathaniel, who at first had served as a humble captain, but eventually had come to command veritable armies as the Duke¡¯s right hand. Had even one such as himself, one loyal to the Empress beyond a doubt, despite his less than respectful opinion of her as a person, been unknowingly duped into acts of betrayal at the behest of the mastermind of this whole sordid affair?


    With a deep breath his chaotic emotions subsided. What had happened in the past was the past, immutable no matter the quantity or severity of his regrets. He needed to stay focused, to fight for the future of the Empire, not to wallow in misery for its past. If what had risen against the Empress was not just the marshaled might of a great man corrupted by a newly developed lust for power, but a grand conspiracy, years in the planning, then the Empire would need its Lord Protector to have his mind sharp and angry. Whether they succeeded in the defense of the city or not, it seemed the Empire would be consumed in a grand conflagration, a return to the days of the civil war.


    His mind set, he withdrew his appraising eye from the device. Scratching his chin, he pondered the future. He would not lie, not to himself. The city could not be saved, not from the coming storm. He may have catered to the thoughts of his generals, to the na?ve optimism of an Empress that should know better, may have even half entertained thoughts that with their preparations then with some miracle the Duke could be driven off. But no more, his mind was now made up.


    He might lie to get his way to his generals, to the feudal lords, even to his sworn sovereign, but he could never betray himself with false delusions. There was a reason he was the last to be optimistic of any situation, if no other could see things for how they were, it would always fall upon him to do so. The situation was grave. And surely he was not the only one that could see it, not with that massive enemy force encamped within sight of the walls.


    The nobility, ever chafing under the tight leash of the Empress was surely sympathetic to the Duke¡¯s cause. Even isolated as they were encamped within Maegwyn¡¯s walls they numbered a significant portion of the city¡¯s defenders. Neither he nor the Empire as a whole could afford for them to rebel against the Empress at the sight of the Duke¡¯s overwhelming power. A battle breaking about in the center of the city as it was besieged by a foe vast beyond conception, it would be disastrous. No, they could not be allowed the opportunity, they would have to be gotten rid of.


    It was unpleasant, the feeling of deceit, the feeling of betrayal. He was a straight forward general and had never been given to acts of deception. He had always acted with honor and dignity, but now he was pushed into a corner. Many young men, the very people to whom he had sworn he would protect as he took upon his role as Lord Protector would need to be sacrificed to eliminate the nobility. But it was for the greater good. When battle joined, likely upon the morrow at the earth works, he would need to ensure that the local nobility no longer possessed strength enough to pose a threat to the Empress. They would need to be sacrificed to ensure that the loyal men of the city, the Home Guard, and most importantly the Empress herself, would live to fight, resist, and win another day.

 Chapter Eleven

    It was morning of the following day, the second day of the ensorcelled deluge. While the water continued to drip and soak into everything that it touched, whether that be wood, cloth, or skin, the mood amongst the men posted to the city¡¯s earth works was rather light. As they awaited the coming of the enemy, they sat upon countless wooden benches beneath the shelter of dozens of large awnings that had been erected along the front.


    Made of treated canvas and leather, held up by stout poles of wood, and staked down with hempen lines to the ground, they served as all but weather proof shelters against the surprisingly meager might of the storm. While the rain itself may have fallen at such a precipitous rate to make even the most hale and hearty man question his lot in life for finding himself far from home adrift in its cold embrace, the actual wind brought by the storm was minimal. The water fell nearly fully vertically, as if more inclined to dampen the soil than to work its way past the feeble attempts of man to defy nature.


    The large structures were emplaced by the dozen in a ring around the city on the side of the river most threatened by the enemy¡¯s advance. Their occupants were warm and dry, heated under the cheerful light of great fires beneath each awning even as their counterparts in the enemy ranks suffered the full brunt of the storm. Casks of cider, full to the brim with measures of autumn spices and heated to a near boil were in abundance within each such shelter. Every man present was afforded rations of the concoction and were in great cheer.


    While they may have been pressed into the service of the, oftentimes less than cherished lords of their villages, they knew well the stakes hanging in the balance, and the price that would be exacted upon all if the city fell. They had long since made peace with their fate, to be used as expendable fodder in the hands of an uncaring lord, knowing that they must do so for the sake of their families, so that at least their children may yet survive the coming war. Those that had not made that peace had been made examples of. Whether they had been deserters or thieves, the craven had been caught and hung. Their bodies placed upon display as a warning to their fellows, upon gallows and gibbets, hanging from trees as they were preyed upon by the birds. Strung up they became macabre displays of the price of disloyalty. But it was not the grim fate of those poor and unfortunate souls that had stuck in the minds of the men, but of the Empress¡¯s bounty provided to them.


    No man liked to dwell upon dark thoughts, and few would have the heart to do so when they were in cheerful environs. The men were free to drink and make merry with the abundance of cider within the casks, a concoction that had been enhanced somewhere along the way by the addition of copious amounts of distilled spirits. The task ahead to which they were sworn may have been perilous, but if not the lord to whom they owed nominal fealty, then the Empress had at least seen fit to provide for them in recompense. A feeling of frivolity and mirth filled the air as the men sat at their benches, talked, and laughed. It may have been the last time any one of them saw the rest, and they would see to it that each man amongst them made the best of his remaining time. Even their officers, the sergeants taken from the ranks of the battle hardened retainers in the service to the lords, who were nominally in charge of keeping discipline within each band of men, partook in the Empress¡¯s offerings.


    And who could blame them? These were proud peasant men of Albion, all but born with the great longbows that they wielded in hand. They practiced regularly, both for sport and for martial training, the weapon becoming an inextricable part of their rural culture since time immemorial. Their aim would not be set askew by a few pints of cider, perhaps not even if they drank like fishes. It was a commonly lauded belief that the hale and hearty men that formed the backbone of Albion¡¯s armies in the days of yore fought better while roaring drunk than sober after all. Neither was it certain the enemy would even come that day, much to the inwardly turned prayers to the gods of some among the men.


    The Duke¡¯s army had not seen fit to test the walls the previous day, merely cowering behind their own fortifications as if waiting out the storm. Yet, as if to spite their aims, the rains still came, ceaseless and hard not letting up for even the barest moment of daylight. The battlefield had become even more heavily laden with water even as the engorged river rose and flooded its banks, further ruining the fields that the foe had balked at marching upon the previous day. Would they brave the rains upon the second day, even as conditions continued to deteriorate?


    Perhaps they would, the enemy were many and their supplies, dwindling without hope for resupply while encamped upon the barren wasteland that had become of the capital region after the exodus of its populace were rather finite. They surely could not afford to postpone their attack over long, not with such a great body of men committed to the attack. They could not hope for forage, nor could they hope to split their numbers to reduce the drains upon their supply lest the city¡¯s defenders take to the field and destroy their mighty host in piecemeal. But they could not afford to be hasty either. It was with the clear intent of besiegement that they marched upon Maegwyn and in the seemingly endless fall of rain, there was no chance their stocks of powder would stay dry enough to be of use in bombarding the city. Despite their experience in war these men were a field army, reliant on long pole arms and ill suited to direct attacks upon fortifications.


    Thus, despite their impending peril the city¡¯s protectors, at least those posted to its outermost defenses, remained in high spirits. All until a cry of warning came from atop an earthen mound, elicited from a spotter that had lain low upon the crest keeping watch over the foe. It seemed that the enemy had finally roused themselves to action. The cheery atmosphere vanished piteously as thousands of men from shelters all across the earth works stood up simultaneously, grabbing their bows, swords, axes, billhooks, or any other of innumerable improvised weapons, and forming up between earthen crests.


    Nathaniel observed their response with quiet contemplation, sitting as he was upon one of the shelter benches. Dressed for battle, he was equipped in full plate, overlapping layers of masterfully artificed armor allowing for a full range of motion while still affording a tremendous amount of protection. Despite its well polished sheen and clean appearance, free from either dirt or rust, it was somewhat of an antique. He had not had much need of it since the days of the civil war, and even then, it had been rather behind the times. While most armor of recent make had begun a trend of cutting weight where it could to afford a thicker cuirass, with the intent to better resist the fired bullets of the increasingly popular arquebus, his remained a fully enclosed shell. Fortunately, it was if the Empress had miraculously foresaw his current circumstances, and the rains turning all exposed gunpowder to impotent mud would make it vanishingly unlikely that he would be struck with such a bullet in the ensuing battle. Upon back side lay the tools of his old warrior¡¯s trade, a greatsword of thick steel bound in harness about his shoulders and a short sword hanging loosely from the back of his hips so as to be easily drawn when disarmed.


    Joined by three other men, each one a man of the Empress¡¯s Shield that had been afforded to him as personal bodyguards for the battle to come, he fit in well with the assemblage of Knights and Lords that remained. The muddy soil would be far too unsure of ground to employ the nobility¡¯s heavy cavalry, and so every man remaining would be fighting dismounted. Even those that had let themselves go to waste in the peaceful times of the Empress¡¯s reign, Nathaniel noted with some mirth. Spying several men of unusually rotund bulk sitting uncomfortably, clearly clad in armor far too tight for their present weight, their skin all but pouring through the seams and joints, he cracked a smile, struggle to hold in his laughter. They would likely last not long at all in battle, and not a second longer in the planned retreat through the twisting alleys of the outer city should the earth works fall. It was truly amusing to see members of the aristocracy, a pillar of society that prided itself upon its place as the preeminent martial class, so enfeebled. But it was all for the best, with every man that fell here today, especially from among the assembled lords, one less dagger would be aimed at the heart of the Empress when the test of loyalty began.


    As he cast his eyes over to the ranks of longbowmen, he noted that the peasants were in an acceptable state. Clearly well practiced in the use of their bows, they were taking careful cover behind the rows of great sharpened stakes lining the openings in the earth works that they had emplaced in previous days. However, while they had engrained strength and skill with the bow into their very culture, they were not so versed with discipline and order, and it had been up to the local nobility to instill that sense of order within the ranks.


    Thankfully, it seemed that their drillmasters had done an able job as he considered the generally organized rows of the archers. Each of them were each clad in some manner of armor, most possessing a sallet helm or coif and aventail, and a few even possessing full coats of mail. It was, however, rather clear to see that the many of the lords charged with mustering the levy had let their own armories fall into a state of disrepair. Most every piece among the assemblage was a relic of the civil war, antiquated in design much like Nathaniel¡¯s own piece of armor, or of even earlier make. Most pieces, whether antique or more recent seemed uncared for, covered with burgundy patinas of clinging rust betraying their keeping in rough conditions when not in use.


    Nathaniel and his bodyguards stood up as the longbowmen were slowly spreading out around the embankments and strode with purpose towards one. He was keen to see what forces the enemy had deigned to risk in the battle¡¯s opening engagement, and eagerly climbed atop an earthen mound, keeping low as he crawled so as to not present much of a target. As he crested the ridge he sighted the approaching foe, rows of ranked archers were at their forefront while lurking behind them and in the wings were waiting blocks of men holding polearms. It would seem that once more, despite its professed martial enthusiasm, the aristocratic class as a whole, even upon the side of the enemy, was less than keen to risk itself in inglorious combat. It would be a peasant¡¯s war then, the conscripted longbowmen of the Empress set against an experienced but equally low class body of longbowmen and pikemen of the Duke.


    Making sure that every man there among them kept his head down and body pressed low to the ground, Nathaniel and his bodyguards lay quietly to observe the beginning of the skirmish. It was not his place to lead the men sworn to that of the nobility after all, but it was his duty to keep appraised of the enemy¡¯s movements and tactics, anything that would help him to lead in the battles of real consequence to come. He would bide his time and let the lords lead their own men for now. Whatever the final outcome of the battle, appraising the martial capability of their allies of convenience that were the local nobility was just as important as that of the enemy.


    As the Empress¡¯s longbowmen prepared, implanting their arrows within the soil in rings about them so as to be easily grasped and shot, the Duke¡¯s own longbowmen advanced. The rains did little to impede men wearing naught but cloth and light mail, and the battle hardened archers of the Duke¡¯s army, each man proudly wearing tailored surcoats emblazoned with his sworn lord¡¯s coat of arms, walked as confidently through the muck as they might through a paved street. They were numerous, far more numerous than the hastily assembled levy of the nobility, and better equipped to boot. It was hard to imagine that this was merely the first wave, a mere fraction of the total men assembled in the Duke¡¯s name. But time would tell whether the earthen embankments, clumsy things intended to repel cannon fire from other fortifications rather than to provide shelter for men on foot, would be advantage enough to win the day.


    After the enemy had advanced to within two hundred paces of the Empress¡¯s lines, the entire advance ceased in place. A herald from the opposing side stepped forth under a flag of parlay, equipped with neither armor nor weapon he crossed the muck with swift strides to approach the lines of the city¡¯s defenders. A trumpeter accompanied him, bleating a shrill tune to announce the herald¡¯s presence, drawing the eyes of every man present on the field.


    ¡°I bring glad tidings to all assembled here today. Rejoice! My lord, the good Duke Edward of Brackenweir has seen fit to offer every man among you safe passage and amnesty for the crimes of defending the she demon hiding within the skin of man that dares to call herself Empress of Albion. You shall know we fight for the true Emperor of Albion, raised by the right of blood and strength of man, not the deviltry of that fell being. We shall not harm any man that lays down his arms and flees the field if he does so, not by force of the good Duke¡¯s arms, but of his own free will.¡± With an earnest expression upon his face, the herald pleads with the Empress¡¯s men, begging them to surrender.


    It is a clever ploy, an attempt to sow discord among the ranks of the city¡¯s defenders. The herald comes dressed not as a nobleman, although that is surely what he is based on his eloquence and manner alone, but as just another soldier in the Duke¡¯s army, a fellow peasant to the eyes of the undiscerning. Wearing a plainly tailored surcoat bearing the badge of the Duke¡¯s insignia, the twisting thorny forest of Brackenweir, he seeks to seem akin to them, as if he understands their struggles.


    Most of the peasant levy are not there by choice, and would much rather have taken their families and fled the land entirely rather than to fight and die for their sovereign. What¡¯s more, his allusions to the deviltry of the Empress are not without ground. The lower classes, especially in the land of Albion where their presence had once seemed so rare, were especially nervous of the wayward tricksters and conjurors that seemed to consist of such a great portion of the practitioners of the esoteric arts, and it was an open secret that the Empress was one such creature. With the unmistakable disfigurement of her witch mark writ large across her face, none but true halfwits would pretend that she was otherwise.


    Nor had she won their hearts in the few years she had reigned. She may have ended the civil war and with it alleviated the burdens of ruthless taxation and exploitation that had been exacted against the increasingly feeble peasantry on the part of a corrupt aristocratic class across the Empire. But despite her past actions, the times remained difficult, and most men still faced hardship not dissimilar to that experienced before the coming of the civil war. Although it was viewed with eyes heavily tinted by traces of nostalgia, many reminisced about the good times of plenty the Empire had been blessed with during the reign of her father. The creeping rot that had eaten its way into the very heart of the empire, that had grown and grown until it had eaten the very souls of its ruling family, lay long forgotten as few among the peasant classes had eyes to see the goings on of the realm. They cared naught for an Empress who did but little for them, and little for them she did as focused as she was upon her grand vision of the future, upon far reaching reforms even at the cost of the present.


    Nor did their loyalties lie with that of the city. Living for the majority in humble farming villages, they lived far from the hustle and bustle of the Empire¡¯s capital, content to leave out their lives from its intrigues. They were no warriors, they practiced meaningful trades and local artisanry over warcraft, never thinking that they would be caught up once more in a war that consumed the entirety of the Empire. They held no grand patriotism to their nation, no loyalty to a city they only by reputation and its place as a perpetual consumer of their goods. As a whole, they truly cared naught for the outcome of the battle, at least not beyond the personal repercussions for themselves.


    They might have been swayed by his words, perhaps going over in droves in the face of both such insurmountable odds and the compelling entreaties of the herald, but for one thing that the Duke had not accounted for. Aside from those who had already been cast into the great beyond at the hand of the Empress¡¯s executioners for disloyalty, most of the assembled peasantry were working men in their prime, men with wives, families, children. They were not fighting solely for the benefit of themselves, and as keenly felt by everyman present as he individually considered the herald¡¯s offer within the dark recesses of his heart, the Duke was not the one holding their families. No, it was the Empress that had ordered the exodus of the peasantry from the capital region, ordered them east into the waiting arms of her legions. While it was nominally for their own protection, how could they ensure that was the case if they sullied their honor upon the field of battle by fleeing in the face of a foul traitor? If any man among them dared to desert now, under the ever watchful eyes of the Empress¡¯s own sworn shields and her Lord Protector no less, how could they ever hope see their families again?


    Watching the increasing agitation of his bodyguards upon hearing the abuse spewn against the Empress on the part of the Duke¡¯s herald, Nathaniel pointed to one man in particular. It was Andross Preston, a particularly zealous member of the Empress¡¯s Shield that looked faintly trembling with rage, the beet red of his face not visible but easily imagined through the obscuring plate of his great helm. Both his great passion and his expendability as a bodyguard and member of a force Nathaniel had already written off as doomed made him an ideal candidate for challenging the herald. Incidentally, he was also the man who had looked most askance at Nathaniel¡¯s rejection of the Empress¡¯s offers of friendship and had thereafter done all he could to position himself into Nathaniel¡¯s service. With the acquiescence of his charge, he stood straight up, easily sighted atop a great earthen heap as he stood high above every soldier present, heedless of the risk of posing too great a target as he cupped his hands about his mouth to project his voice.


    ¡°Do you dare spout the lies of that filthy cur? So charged was he to defend our lands that he has turned traitor, allying himself with the likes of Aachish dogs! He brings naught but chaos and strife unto our lands even as he seeks to corrupt your very minds with spun tales of his benevolence. Get ye gone from the field and rejoin your ranks so that I may slay you myself!¡± With a rather dramatic drawing of a hammer that had lain hooked in a loop upon his belt and raising it high so that it glinted with the dim light from the overcast sky, Andross shouted his hatred and defiance at the herald.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°Look here! The minions of the devil herself beck and bite at your heels and hang axes over your heads lest you dare rebel against her tyranny. I can scarcely believe that they even deign to honor the right of parlay. I will give you all one last chance to surrender. In honor of the spirit of your brave defiance against that fell demon that has cast her evil shadow over our fair land, I even offer up this generous purse of gold to the first man brave enough to claim it!¡± Taken aback by the abrupt appearance of one of the Empress¡¯s Shield the herald fumbles, stumbling over the lines of what must have been a prepared speech and deciding to retreat while he is still able.


    Eager to return to the safety of his own lines, the herald quickly proffers a large leather pouch, waving it almost tauntingly before the city¡¯s defenders, before opening its contents and dropping it to the ground. Dozens of large gold coins spill out forming a small pile beneath the still nearly full pouch. It is a great treasure, one large enough to keep even wealthy knights in luxury for some time. It is an amount almost beyond conception for the poor peasants assembled upon the field of battle, and greedy eyes and hungering gazes are drawn to the pouch like moths to a flame. For the part of the Duke¡¯s army, not a man among them bats even an eyelid, clearly well used to such tactics. Besides, it would inevitably lay amongst the spoils of war in what will surely become a field of dead men, they merely had to bide their time and wait.


    One man in particular among the levy¡¯s ranks stiffened, casting his gaze about semi furtively. Every man beside him was either staring in anticipation at the enemy or casting sneaking glances towards the pouch of gold. Thinking quickly, he dropped his bow upon the muddy ground and started to sprint towards the gold. Having neither family nor land he owed nothing to the Empress, and a fat purse of gold would likely secure himself a comfortable life even in exile. However, as soon as he broke the first rank in his attempt to reach the safety of the field between the two armies, he tripped and fell heavily to the muddy earth. A foot had caught him just as he was to clear the Empress¡¯s lines, sending him tumbling down to the ground.


    As the fallen man looked up, he saw naught but the cold and hateful glares of those whom had been his former fellows, those with whom he had drank and dined with for weeks, not just in the capital but leaving beside for years within his home village. He had thrown away his loyalty to not just the Empress, but to them, his former friends, and he saw neither guilt more pity as they observed him facing the consequences of his actions.


    Looming large above the wary head of the deserter upon the ground, was the stone faced expression of his unit¡¯s sergeant. The faint pattering of rain upon the sergeant¡¯s raised halberd was all that was audible upon the otherwise deathly silent field. The deserter pathetically pleaded and begged for his life, vowing to rejoin the ranks, vowing to change his ways and be the most loyal servant of the Empress. But it was all for naught, useless noise lose in the wind and rain as none who heard it cared to remember. Neither side stirred as the sergeant lowered the halberd with a sharp swing, cleaving the man¡¯s head from his shoulders in a gruesome display that served as premonition of things to come in the impending battle. Greedy gazes that had once lusted after the gold littering the ground now stared in silent witness to the blood spattered corpse that had once been a man much like them. None dared to make another attempt to reach the purse.


    ¡°So as ends all traitors, look upon your fate and despair!¡± Ever exuberant, Andross hotly takes advantage of the gore still oozing across the ground to rile up the enemy. They were after all, in the eyes of both gods and men, still traitors no matter the dressing with which they concealed their crime.


    Seeing his petty tricks stymied, the herald let out a sigh of exasperation none could hear, before turning around and heading back to the Duke¡¯s lines. His expression was not one of annoyance, but of contentment. While he held some regret that his plan had been foiled, the ploy had been base enough that even he himself had been loath to implement it. No veteran of the Duke¡¯s forces could ever respect a man driven by such greed that he would betray his fellows to the enemy, and it would have left a very hollow feeling of victory indeed if it had been bought at the price of such treachery.


    It would seem that the Empress had marshaled about herself at least some men of integrity, the herald noted with some amusement. From the reports gleaned from those messengers that had reached the army from the Duchy, it had seemed as if the Empress had deployed all of her real fighting men to the west. The battle would have been a truly dull affair if that had been the case, especially in light of the abundance of men all but overflowing the encampment and devouring the army¡¯s supplies. The spoils of war would surely have been slim if the forces of the Empress were to put up but a trifling resistance. But it seemed that at least there were some men still with the iron blood of warriors running through their veins.


    Perhaps in battle against such a worthy foe he would even gain the chance for a knighting, an event that had been all too uncommon during the mundane years he had sat guarding the border. Although, he noted with a grimace, not against a real opponent of course, never against one such as a member of the Empress¡¯s Shield. He himself was but a humble herald, a wordsmith that engaged in battles of wit armed with a pen far more than that of a sword. But the title of knight was a great social boon in Brackenweir, and in the coming reign of the Duke it would surely be of paramount status. How could he let such a chance slip through his fingers? While he would never dare to place himself in peril for a mere title, if such men of strong will were present amongst the enemy¡¯s ranks, then surely he could spin a likely tale hearty enough to win him recognition.


    Regardless of the effectiveness of the Herald¡¯s speech, it seemed that a mass defection was not something that the Duke had been relying upon in his plans for battle. While the gazes of all had been drawn to the herald¡¯s announcements, the Duke¡¯s battle lines had slowly advanced a further twenty paces and were already preparing to open fire. The steady creeping forward of pikemen and halberdiers had lain almost unnoticed and the Duke¡¯s longbowmen were implanting their arrows into the ground even as the herald gave up his dialogue.


    ¡°They¡¯re within range you laggards, draw damn you, draw!¡± Andross, standing straight and tall atop the earthen wall, figure cut like a hero from a storybook, gave his impassioned cry rallying the Empress¡¯s men. At his impassioned call, men took heed of the duplicitous advance of the enemy, and soon the call to action had spread up and down the Empress¡¯s lines.


    Caught unawares, the noble lords that had nominally been left in charge of their levies had been too occupied contemplating the fate of traitors to notice the advance of the enemy, and had not yet given the order to begin the battle. Blessedly, professional as can be expected from a land so completely rent asunder by civil war in recent memory, the experienced soldiers in the employ of those nobles however, did notice. Upon hearing Andross¡¯s cries for action, were quick to further the cause, giving up with their own calls to battle, regardless of to whom they owed fealty.


    ¡°Knock. Draw. Release!¡± Countless sergeants amongst the archer¡¯s ranks barked their calls in a frenzy as each man roused his men to battle, the shouts all but lost in the sudden cacophony of barking men.


    The enemy was still at rather long range, just shy of two hundred paces, but they were within reach of their bows. While single arrows launched from such a distance, even in the hands of a trained longbowmen, were unlikely to hit a precise target, those arrows shot en masse were of an entirely different effect. Capable of completely saturating an area with their evil tidings, they were shot not at one man, but of a great host, and one all but impossible to miss so closely were they standing beside one another. A veritable rain of arrows cast the enemy in shadow, accompanied by the more mundane rain of water as it washed over the enemy.


    Disciplined as they were, the sworn bannermen of the Duke were not faint of heart and even as they were caught just a moment too slow to the draw, they held fast and returned fire. The rain of steel came down hard upon both sides, sharp tips bouncing off helmets, deflecting off of breastplates, or embedding themselves in the cloth and flesh of screaming men. A skilled longbowman of Albion can fire at such a rate that a single minute could pass, and he would have already released just shy of ten deadly missiles. With two sides employing such skilled archers in the thousands, tens of thousands of flying implements of death came screaming down upon their opposing number in the enemy ranks. While the arrows may not have been capable of outright piercing plate, with so many fluttering through the air and falling upon the mass of bodies on both sides, it was inevitable that many would pierce chinks in armor, uncovered regions, or otherwise poorly secured joints.


    ¡°Get down you fool! The Empress will have no use for you when you¡¯re dead.¡± Nathaniel pulled Andross by his ankle until he fell down face first into the muck besides him. While Andross had been a useful mouthpiece for driving off the enemy herald, the man would hardly be useful as a bodyguard if he died pointlessly in the ensuing arrow storm. He would need to stay alive for now, especially as he was one of the few men stationed at the earth works that he could trust in any manner melee.


    Death was abound as men, riddled with arrows, fell to the ground catching their fellows in their death throes and wholly disrupting the formations that had begun the battle. The screams and shrieks of the dead and dying, feathered shafts piercing their bodies like the quills upon a hedgehog, filled the air with piteous moans and wails. Such sounds were there, that none that had never faced the heart of battle could hope to comprehend it, a veritable cacophony of hideous noise that seemed to hammer at the ears until hearing was lost entirely.


    Heaps of corpses soon lay amongst the muddy soil, their blood dripping down until it mixed it into an unholy slurry. The gleaming sheen of polished metal contrasted greatly with the dark hue of spattered blood that covered not just the fallen, but also the survivors standing just beside newly made casualties. But for all that, the Empress¡¯s men came off lighter. With the bulk of the earthworks holding either flank and the fact that they had spread themselves loosely throughout, the arc within which enemy arrows could hit them was small, while the enemy organized in ranks trying to pack as many archers into effective range as feasible, were themselves wholly exposed. A fourth of the levy sworn to the Empress may have lain upon the ground by the end of the exchange, but a full third perhaps of the foe¡¯s lay dead or dying.


    With both sides having run out of arrows in but a few minutes, the Duke¡¯s archers withdrew, exhausted and bleeding, carrying what men they could as they abandoned the field. But the archers were not the only troops sent forth by the Duke, and as they retreated the pikemen and halberdiers advanced. Clad not in the light mail of the archers, but many among them in brigandines or even closer to full plate in many cases, they possessed much greater resistance to the arrows of the city¡¯s defenders. However, they were also far less fleet of foot, weighed down by their abundance of heavy armor as they crossed the muddy soil. They were almost as tired as the archers against whom they marched by the time they slogged across the muck of the field to reach the wooden stakes acting as a barrier between the two sides.


    The Duke¡¯s archers had quickly run out of the bundled arrows they had gone to battle with, being harshly limited both by the quantity of supply of the Duke¡¯s army, hindered as it was as it travelled far from resupply, and the fact that it had been stretched thinly across tens of thousands of men rather than concentrated in the hands of a few.  However, in sharp contrast the city¡¯s defenders found their own supply was replenished rather quickly. Ferrying back and forth from the covered shelters to the ranks of archers were hundreds of runners, bearing bundles of arrows from common stockpiles to keep every man of the city¡¯s defenders supplied with fresh arrows. While far from every arrow in the city had been distributed to the earth works, the city had been preparing for an entire month for the coming battle, and tens upon tens of thousands of arrows in addition to that already held by the imperial armories had been stockpiled and stored in caches throughout its defenses. It would not be ammunition supply that would prove the point of failure of the city¡¯s outer defenses, but that of the men.


    Renewing the torrent of arrows against their new foe, the longbowmen quickly grew exhausted. Keeping up the rapid pace of drawing and releasing countless arrows from their heavy longbows had proved immensely taxing, and the rate of their fire precipitously declined as the battle wore on. While the lightly armored few of the bulk of the approaching enemy infantry were even more decimated than the Duke¡¯s archers had been, advancing as they were through near ceaseless volleys of arrows, many of them were clad in armor so heavy they were all but immune to the pointed missiles. While even then, many fell from pierced visors and eye slits, only to fall to the ground an immovable lump of steel to slow the already sluggish pace of the advancing blocks of pike and halberd, not all so fell.


    While almost half their number lay twitching upon the field of battle, eventually the survivors of the enemy foot had reached the lines of longbowmen, and after hewing away at the thick stakes of sharpened timbers blocking their path, with their lengthy spears and pike they put the longbowmen to rout with but little effort. With thrusting pike and slashing halberd hundreds of archers, utterly exhausted from the ordeal of firing so many arrows and far from skilled at close quarters, were slain. Even the fear of death or the looming threat against their families looming over their heads did little to sway the impending mortal terror of the peasant levy as the Empress¡¯s lines buckled and threatened to give way entirely to the spearhead of enemy infantry.


    But all was not lost, as waiting behind the ranks of archers lay the professional retainers of the local nobility, and they charged with alacrity against the foe. Being veterans of the civil war themselves, and as well equipped as they were what with the nobility being strictly limited in the quantity of retainers it could possess so that they focused their limited funds on well equipping but a few veterans, they proved more than a match for the Duke¡¯s soldiers. Clad in full plate to a man, as archaic as it may have been, and wielding heavy hammers, axes, and halberds, the tools of choice to pry upon the armor of their foe, they set upon the mere up jumped peasants of the Duke¡¯s forces like wolves to an injured stag. Thrusting, tearing, and crushing, they forced the enemy back, rending their bodies asunder and trodding upon their corpses as they pushed them every back.


    Lowering his visor Nathaniel himself, alongside his bodyguards, had rushed to the front lines as he had seen the archer¡¯s lines begin to buckle. To an even greater degree than the retainers of the nobility, the men of the Empress¡¯s Shield availed themselves to great effect, acting as a rallying force for archers and men at arms both as they carved a bloody path through the foe. With hammer raised high, Nathaniel parried and struck against the foe, crushing armor clad joints and disabling the enemy with one stroke only to cave in their helm and skull with the next. It had truly been a too long since he had been to the battlefield, fought alongside men in the mud rather than fighting with the pen at his desk and the seemingly endless stream of paperwork required as Lord Protector. He had almost forgotten how much it had truly made him feel alive. Something seemed to stir deep inside his soul every time he plunged into the thick of the melee, presumably the same something that had seen him through safely to civil war¡¯s end in even the most dire of circumstances. Behind his lowered bascinet he smiled, somehow joyful despite all misery, pain, and horror that had beset him since he first received word of that treacherous bastard¡¯s betrayal, to be thrown back down into the crucible of war.


    As the ranks of the Duke¡¯s men were forced back by an implacable wall of steel, one fresh and unburdened by either battle or weary march in sharp contrast to the by now well exhausted men of the Duke, they pressed their backs against their fellows in the rear ranks. A tremendous trampling ensued as men, backing away or turning their backs and outright attempting to flee the field were knocked to the ground and crushed by their fellows, or were accidentally impaled by the waiting gleaming spears of the rear ranks. The formations crumbled, and the men were sent back reeling and fleeing back across the muddy track.


    ¡°Halt! The foe is in rout, but you have neither horses, nor surety of foot in this treacherous muck. By the time you reach them, they will have reached their fellows and you will be torn to pieces. The day is won, let them run. We will fight them anew on the morrow.¡± Seeing the foe retreat, the retainers of the nobility charged forward, eager to strike at their exposed backs, but they were stopped by Nathaniel¡¯s raised hand.


    With some grumbling, the retainers and nobles by and large acquiesced, halting in their advance at his call. Despite their zeal in the previous battle, few were truly as bloodthirsty and battle seeking as they may have appeared. There were those among them however that were so afflicted, but seeing that their fellows had abandoned the chase, they lost heart to pursue the foe, falling back despondently. The retainers and levy then, seeing the enemy in full rout, fell upon the fallen of both friend and foe as scavengers, plucking what valuables that could be found from their cold, dead hands. This was the way of battle, the spoils of victory and the privilege of the undefeated, and neither noble nor sergeant looked askance as discipline across the entire army disintegrated in a mad frenzy of looting. It was a blessing that the foe seemed satisfied with the bloodshed of the day, or the earth works may very well have been truly lost before the mob was put back to order.


    Nathaniel let out a breathless sigh of exasperation. For all of their experience in battle, the glory seeking of the aristocratic class never ceased to amaze him. They considered neither danger nor misfortune moved as they were in the vain pursuit of recognition. If he had not stopped them, the inevitable next waves of the foe¡¯s advance would surely have destroyed them without the benefit of either the protective embrace of the earth works or the cover provided by the archer¡¯s rain of arrows.


    While it was a good opportunity, the retainers especially needing to die for him to ensure the Empress¡¯s safety in the coming days, now would not be that time. They were by far the most effective soldiers posted to the earth works, and they would be sorely needed in the days to come. It was a surprise, to be sure, that they had managed to hold the line, but it had seemed that the Duke had shown them mercy this day. The foe had not been the core of their enemy¡¯s army, neither the knights nor men at arms, but rather disciplined and well equipped peasants no different in class than that of the peasant levy of the local nobility. He did not know when, but the enemy¡¯s elite would come. Whether in the next hour, the next day, the next week he knew naught, but that they would come he knew with certainty. And so he would wait for them. Every day they tarried gave another day for the eastern legions to arrive, another day closer to securing the safety of the Empress and Empire.


    This day the enemy had been well bloodied; many thousands lay on the field. A paltry amount compared to the nearly sixty thousand that he had counted within the Duke¡¯s encampment from afar perhaps, but nonetheless a promising showing from both the city¡¯s fortifications and its defenders. The rains had been a great blessing to be sure, the muck had won the battle for them as surely as the steel of their arrows, but still the conscripted peasantry had proven its worth and they would be tested time and again against the cresting waves of their foe¡¯s army.


    The bodies of the fallen would be left there to rot. As they decayed, they would become vectors for disease and filth, infecting the ground water and the air, but they were afar in the muck between the two camps. With their own water supplied from the city and stored securely within great oaken casks the city¡¯s defenders were at no risk of contamination themselves, and the corpses could be an effective impediment to the orderly lines of pike favored by that of their enemy. Satisfied by the events of the day, Nathaniel withdrew to the city, certain that, at least for a small while, the nobility would possess capability enough to hold the city¡¯s outer defenses.

 Chapter Twelve

    Contrary to Nathaniel¡¯s expectations, the Duke¡¯s army did not wait until the morrow to renew their assault, but struck again that very same day. While their next wave came far too late to take advantage of the disorganized ranks of the city¡¯s defenders, presumably delayed by their severely strained logistics, they came nonetheless. Thrice more they struck against the earth works, a few hours reprieve granted to the drained defenders between each wave before the foe surged forth once more, attempting to drown the defenders with the weight of their numbers. The cycle lasted until the sun hung low in the sky, signaling the coming of dusk.


    It had been a grueling day for the city¡¯s defenders amidst near ceaseless attacks and a constant stream of casualties. As if to spite the Empress for her fell workings upon the weather, they came with fresh veterans at the fore of every attack while with every wave the peasant levy grew fewer in number and ever more exhausted. It was a complete inversion of the paradigm of the day prior, where the men of the Duke had been the ones dispirited, weakened by weeks of deprivation from their march and the seemingly endless rain, while those men of the Empress had made merry under the warm cover of their shelters.


    While the conscripted peasants were severely depleted for a certainty after such a taxing day of relentless combat, the Duke¡¯s army did not seem to be faring much better despite its advantage in manpower. The muddy tract of land between the two forces was choked with the bodies of the fallen, most bereft of either treasure or armor after the rapacious bands of roving scavengers had stripped them bare. While the first engagement had left only a few thousand upon the field, the commanders of both friend and foe had learned the hard lessons from that battle, and the subsequent waves had led to even greater loss of life until well over ten thousand men lay slain amongst the muck.


    It was an astonishing loss of life. Normally in battle only a relatively minor portion of either side would be slain in actual combat, with the majority of casualties incurred either from sickness or as they broke and fled from the field of battle, only to be cut down for their cowardice from behind. But this battle had been a great departure from normality. While it was only to be expected from the peasants of the Empress¡¯s army, as inexperienced with battle as they were and lacking the inexhaustible supply of fresh fodder that the Duke seemingly possessed, it was rather unusual upon the part of the enemy.


    As an experienced, well equipped, and highly disciplined force, to suffer such casualties in anything but the very storming of a fortress¡¯s walls was near unheard of. Furthermore, those losses had not been incurred facing any particularly great foe, nor for accomplishing any great feat, but from mere probing attacks made against a vastly inferior force. While the Duke had certainly been headless of caution in his past days as Lord Protector during the civil war, utterly ruthless as he was and quick to expose the weaknesses of his enemies as they presented themselves, he had never been one to so callously throw away the lives of his own men. Not for the accomplishment of little of any value at least. That he now seemed to view his own men as expendable pawns was extremely concerning, and would likely necessitate a complete reconceptualization of the Duke¡¯s personality before Nathaniel would once more be able to preempt his tactics with any surety.


    Nathaniel had intended to use the city¡¯s fall as the hot coals with which he could reforge its defenders anew into a great army, the equal of any amongst the enemy after they had survived weeks of grueling siege. But it was seemingly not to be, not at the rate the Duke¡¯s army was cutting down their men like so much chaff at least. The city would likely be left entirely bereft of its defenders in mere days if the present rate of attrition was allowed to continue.


    The Duke¡¯s forces acted in such haste that, rather than meticulously dismantling the city¡¯s defenses and launching his men precisely at an exposed vulnerability as he was wont to do in the past, he seemed content to inelegantly flex the weight of his superior numbers to force a swift victory. It appeared that he was uncaring of the price paid in blood on the part of his men, men sworn to him that had fought alongside him for decades, for that victory in a great departure from his usual character. With the Duke content to spend the lives of his men as freely as gold coins at auction, Nathaniel was doubtful that the earth works would stand to hold for even one day longer.


    But as frustrated as his plans may have been, weeks of preparation and meticulous design foiled by an almost inconceivable sudden change in the personality of their foe, that was not to say that the day had been an utter disaster. While the Duke¡¯s numerical and qualitative superiority were undeniable, his reserves of manpower were far from infinite. With almost ten thousand of the man men lying amongst the dead clothed in well tailored surcoats bearing the devices of the Duke or his sworn bannermen, his army had lost a full sixth of its strength. The peasants had acquitted themselves well in the struggle, the few that remained becoming well blooded veterans in but a day¡¯s time. Observing both with the calm and collected mind he possessed gazing from afar upon the field of battle, and with the more impassioned spirit within his heart that possessed him while in the very thick of battle, he had come to know well the disposition of the leaders of both camps.


    The Duke¡¯s army, whether by delegation to lesser men or directly commanded from the top was unknown, seemed to favor massed frontal assaults using experienced yeomen on foot split between that of heavy infantry and longbowmen. Possessing a large reserve of manpower and a secure camp, the commanders were content to send waves of men at the city¡¯s earth works, knowing well that they would fail to overwhelm the defenders but satisfied with causing a steady attrition of their enemy. Having learned their lesson from the failure of the first wave, they no longer blindly charged the earth works with intent to storm it, but rather had their heavy infantry walk forward to begin dismantling the sharpened timbers and abattis that lined its perimeter.


    Wielding large pavaises all but immune to the arrows launched by the city¡¯s defenders, they could dismantle the outer reaches of the earth works with impunity while the archers accompanying them kept the peasant longbowmen and retainers of the nobility in check. Their strategy still involved great risk, but they continued seemingly uncaring for their losses as they mounted, especially amongst the unprotected ranks of their own longbowmen. While it lacked much in the way of either guile or elegance, their straightforward tactic to clear the way for a much larger assault at a later date, presumably upon the morrow once the sun once more afforded them visibility of the treacherous battlefield, was no less effective for its directness.


    As much as the forces of the Empress had bloodied the Duke¡¯s first assault upon the earth works, they had been spared the brunt of the impact from the enemy heavy infantry reaching their lines. Their survival was owed in large part upon the obstructions like the emplaced stakes that had kept them out of reach of the enemy halberds. Discharging their longbows or thrusting with what weapons they had to hand at point blank range, they had made the heavy infantry of the Duke¡¯s army pay for every inch taken in pain and death as they clumsily clambered over the abattis. Without those obstructions, only the men at arms and knights kept in reserve by the local nobility would remain to push the enemy back, and they were far too few in number to accomplish any such feat alone. Their defensive line would surely crumble once their protections had been stripped.


    Where the Duke¡¯s men were aggressive, eagerly risking their lives to whittle down the city¡¯s defenders and fortifications until none were left to impede their advance, the local nobility held a decidedly cautious approach. Whether the intent was to preserve what manpower they could to hold the earth works for a prolonged period of time and redeem the honor of the aristocracy in the eyes of the Empress, or if it was to ensure the survival of their men at arms so as to make mischief once they returned to the city, the effect was the same. They held their men back, refusing either attempts to sortie against the enemy camp or to make flanking attacks against their advancing ranks of their foe. While such tactics ceded the initiative wholly to the enemy, it also immunized the rather inexperienced peasantry to attempts to draw them out and ambush them, playing to the strength of their encampment in a fortified position.


    Learning from the first attack, each time that the enemy infantry neared the peasant longbowmen, they would withdraw to a man only to be replaced by the eager, waiting blades of the knights and men at arms of the nobility. It was an effective means of preserving both the lives and strength of their men, and wreaked havoc amongst the heavy infantry of the Duke, protected as they were with clumsy pavaise. Oftentimes as soon as the two lines met in melee, the Duke¡¯s men would retreat with haste, casting aside the great shields in their retreat.


    More importantly than either of those things, however, at least for the aristocrats involved, was the fact that the nobility themselves never seemed to be in much of the way of danger thanks to these tactics. They remained lurking as they were in the rear echelons of the formations of their retainers. If their timidity had been the only factor taken into account upon the outcome of the assaults, then the Duke¡¯s army would have lost nary a man even if they slew few in turn, but fortunately for the Empress¡¯s men that was not the case.


    Thankfully, by the time the enemy began advancing upon the earthworks for the second assault that day, the cannon emplaced upon Maegwyn¡¯s curtain wall had been ready to fire. While not as effective against blocks of infantry in the damp and mud, as the great iron balls serving as their ammunition tended to embed themselves into the mire upon the first strike rather than bouncing to cause additional damage, as they were wont to do upon firmer ground, they still reaped death¡¯s own harvest. Having spent the last month preparing for the siege and secreting dozens of ranging landmarks in the fields, they kept up an impeccably accurate rain of iron death upon the foe that made mockery of pavaise and armor alike. It was certain that whatever form of warfare the Duke¡¯s army was experienced in, it was most decidedly not in conquering a fortress city armed with such a wealth of cannon. The cannon more than any other asset had stymied the Duke¡¯s attempts to either dismantle the fortifications at leisure or to overwhelm the defenders in melee.


    Of particular note amongst the ranks of the assembled nobility was Count Reginald Stern. Being a count he possessed the highest title of all those called to defend the city¡¯s earth works, and accordingly the greatest quantity of either longbowmen or personal retainers. As a veteran of the civil war himself, he was well versed in the art of war and was more than eager to hold conferences with his fellow nobles as he instructed and advised them on how best to hold the earth works. For all of his useful service in the defense of the fortifications however, the particularly interesting thing about the good count, Nathaniel noted with cold calculation, was that it was not just himself that seemed reluctant to face combat, but that of his entire entourage.


    While the rest of the nobility had shied away from the melee themselves, leaving it to their retainers and the more expendable peasantry, the Count had managed to politick to such efficacy among the nobles assembled for the earth works¡¯ defense, that he and his men never even came near battle. Despite the Count possessing the largest of personal forces, they were seemingly always committed to battle last amongst all of the lords, as if reluctant to shed their blood in the name of the Empress. Particularly alarming, was how close they seemed to edge to the waiting defensive bulk of the outer city as if ready as an entire body to flee at a moment¡¯s notice. For such an experienced veteran to avoid risking his own men even as he advised his fellows to better serve as his shields, must surely have possessed a keen sense of awareness.


    That sense of perception, seemingly somehow knowing that the Lord Protector intended to use both him and his men as so much fodder to slow the advance of the Duke was admirable. It was a rare talent for cold-blooded acumen that had surely been a deciding factor in ensuring the count had survived the Empress¡¯s purges with both his life and title intact. But his skill in political maneuvering could not be pardoned, Nathaniel could not allow such a clearly rebellious force to enter the capital at nearly full strength. No, they would have to die, to a man if at all possible.


    With only three men of the Empress¡¯s Shield to his name and surrounded upon all sides by men sworn to the nobility, the very thing he sought to castigate, immediate action was¡­ inadvisable to say the least. Not if he was to retain his head at any rate, he would be a poor right hand to the Empress if he were so enfeebled after all. Aware as they were to avoid facing the enemy in battle, they would have to be dealt with through an act of betrayal it seemed. While he had steeled himself against the necessities of keeping the rebellious nobility in check, it was never an easy thing to toss away the lives of the very men he sought to protect from his high office as Lord Protector.


    He clenched a mailed fist, pondering the necessary course of action. While most of the nobility had proven themselves of reasonable loyalty in the face of the enemy, and had accordingly suffered sufficient casualties per his plan to leave them so weakened that they could not resist the might of the Home Guard, the Count had not. His evident disloyalty aside, Nathaniel could never let an all but unbloodied army be the very first to abandon the earth works and flee to the city. The impacts to the morale of the Home Guard alone would be disastrous, let alone the mischief a wholly unchecked army in the hands of a renowned political maneuverer and veteran soldier could accomplish.


    He walked calmly to one of the shelters, bearing the burning crown of the Empress overlaid with a ream of parchment upon its awning. It was the outpost of the imperial couriers at the earth works, ever waiting for urgent messages to be relayed to the rest of the city. While he was in a hurry, as time was of the essence, he could not afford to draw suspicion, not with the eyes of his targets ever alert and constantly surrounded by men of dubious loyalty. Thus, he walked, pressing in under the awning until he found a courier, a young lad of no more than seventeen. The youth was clearly surprised to see such a high ranking official, especially given how close to the enemy the earth works lay. Handing him a quickly penned and sealed letter, the wax of which was firmly pressed by the stamp of his office, he entreated the youth.


    ¡°Boy, this is urgent. Please deliver this to Captain Alderman of the Home Guard as quickly as you may.¡± With a serious expression upon his face, he pressed the letter into the surprised lad¡¯s palm.


    ¡°Right away m¡¯lord!¡± Quick on the uptake, well used to delivering such urgent missives in the city¡¯s time of crisis, he got over his personal shock at encountering the second most powerful man in the Empire and set to his task with gusto.


    As the messenger disappeared into the night, a sharp and questioning voice spoke up from his left. It was Andross, surprisingly having lifted the visor of his great helm so that his face was for once plainly visible, his eyes cocked in a mixture of confusion and suspicion. After doing precious little that day besides entering the melee himself, leaving the actual leadership of the Empress¡¯s army to the nobility, he had suddenly sent an urgent message to a captain of the Home Guard. Not just any captain either, but that of the eighth captain of foot whom, in addition to acting as a conventional captain of the Home Guard¡¯s eighth company, also served as the chief quartermaster of the entire city for the duration of the siege. While urgent requests were often made to him, they were typically made by individual unit commanders or captains to request resupply, not by a man that had expended not even one mote of ammunition in the day¡¯s fighting, one that did not even command any present upon the field of battle save for his bodyguards. It was an extremely unusual action and, to Andross at least as one who was not only unquestioningly loyal to the Empress but also already suspicious of Nathaniel¡¯s intentions, it was highly suspect.


    ¡°For what purpose have you need for such urgency with the chief quartermaster?¡± Suspicious, but willing to offer the benefit of the doubt to the Empress¡¯s most trusted vassal, he firmly, but politely inquired upon his intentions.


    ¡°A simple matter of repositioning the supply train tonight. We must be ready for when the enemy comes upon the morrow after all. I have ordered the wagons to assemble within the vicinity of Count Stern¡¯s encampment. I intend to have them positioned so that if the Count flees in the face of the enemy, he will find no avenue of escape.¡± Knowing that it would be pointless to conceal his purpose from the ever watchful eyes of his bodyguards, Nathaniel confessed his plans honestly.


    ¡°You would cut off their path of retreat? But that is the plan that you yourself devised for if the earthworks were to fall! If they cannot retreat, then they shall be caught by the enemy and slaughtered to a man. You intend to consign such a large body of men to pointless death? Are you mad?! The Empress demands the city to hold and you would throw away the lives of thousands of men, for what? All this day we have fought side by side with the men sworn to the nobility, bled with them, and succeeded in repelling the foe due to their courage, how could you abandon any of them?¡± Eyes aflame with both anger and scorn, Andross gazed with dire judgement back at Nathaniel¡¯s composed face as he inched his hand towards his sword.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    For all of his zeal and loyalty to his sovereign, Andross was decidedly inept in the politics of the court. Neither particularly insightful nor perceptive, he was profoundly lacking in his ability to root out traitors. He was a soldier, a bodyguard willing to lay down his life upon a moment¡¯s notice so that his charge may live. He was most emphatically neither general nor inquisitor, entirely ignorant of the art of subterfuge. Perhaps this weakness of his was grave, an unprecedented vulnerability within the safeguarding of the Empress, a task which demanded keen discernment and awareness at all times. But that very weakness seemed to play nicely into Nathaniel¡¯s plans, as even as suspicious as Andross was of him, he would never have even dared to conceive of Nathaniel¡¯s plan for betrayal. The plan that, even now under Andross¡¯s very own vigil, wound its inexorable way forward towards completion.


    ¡°Have you not noticed? For a man from such a famed regiment of bodyguards as the Empress¡¯s Shield, you are surprisingly lacking in your ability to detect threats. Every time the foe draws near, Count Stern¡¯s men form up in that clearing yonder. It is so very far from the fighting that I wonder if he even intends to fight at all. I know that, at the very least, I have seen them engage in battle not once throughout the fighting of the day. Your outcry is misplaced, it is clear that he intends not to fight either alongside us or for the Empress.¡± Unable to resist, Nathaniel poked fun at the weakness he had found in the more impassioned man.


    ¡°Do you think yourself Emperor? You overstep your bounds, Lord Protector. It is to the Empress and to the Empress alone that lies the power to cast judgement upon the traitors of the Empire, this is not the dark days of the civil war. Furthermore, as she has made abundantly clear, she requires the lives of every man available to defend the city. She cannot even afford the waste of even one life, let alone that of thousands!¡± Red in the face from the disparagement, Andross harshly criticized Nathaniel¡¯s initiative. However he lowered his hand down from his sheathed blade, content that whatever Nathaniel¡¯s intentions, he was at least seemingly acting in the best interests of the Empress rather than his own in an overt act of betrayal.


    ¡°I would not dare to presume upon the Empress¡¯s authority, but I will make one matter absolutely transparent. We are at war, likely one that will be as impactful as the civil war. I do not usurp the sovereign¡¯s powers, I merely act within my capacity as the Lord Protector of the realm, wielding the powers that she herself bequeathed to me upon my assumption of the office. The capital is in dire straits, and as the chief commander of the city¡¯s defenses I will brook no fomentation of rebellion upon the part of the nobility or any other within the city¡¯s walls. I have responsibility over all men sheltering within the city¡¯s defenses. Here, I am judge, jury, and executioner of all those that fail to uphold their oaths to the Empress in her time of need. I require neither oversight nor guidance from the Empress in carrying out my duties, no matter what you may have believed.¡± He emphasized his poignant words with emphatic taps with his metal clad fingers against Andross¡¯s breastplate with every sentence.


    He would not allow the dullard to get in his way. He acted solely in his official capacity as he signed the death warrants of thousands of men, for the good of both the city and the Empress. While he held a heavy heart as he considered the unnecessary waste of life of otherwise good men, he was resolute. None would be allowed to threaten the city¡¯s unity in its time of crisis. Likewise, if he made Andross the fool when he was acting within his rights, then Andross was liable to be sufficiently cowed that he would overlook Nathaniel¡¯s actions even when he was actually overstepping his authority.


    ¡°If the count is a traitor¡­ surely we could arrest just him? Bring him to the Empress and have her cast judgement. His men are surely not all so guilty, even if their lord has conspired against the crown. We¡­ can¡¯t just uselessly cast aside the lives of so many able men, not when the city is so imperiled.¡± He retorted, his face flushed red, this time from the embarrassment of being caught ignorant of the powers of Nathaniel¡¯s high office, his anger having faded in the face of impeccable logic.


    Andross was clutching at straws to find a way to save these men, of such grave import as they were to the Empress¡¯s plans. As Andross¡¯s mind spun, he began overlooking the very reality of the situation out of sheer desperation. With the fate of the city growing more dubious with each passing day, how could he ignore the loss of so many potent soldiers? The Empress could not approve of such actions, not as desperate as she was herself to save the city. How could he not speak in their defense? Both in their capacity as bystanders innocent to the charges of treason Nathaniel lay against the Count and as the dependable soldiery necessary to ensure the city¡¯s defense. Nathaniel seemed dead set on bypassing the sovereign entirely as he eroded the very tools with which she sought to defend the city. If he did not speak out for them then who would? Helpless and voiceless, they would be slaughtered without recourse while the enemy laughed.


    ¡°Have you not eyes you fool? Arrest the Count with what force? Taken together, we are but four men and Count¡¯s band numbers in the thousands. If even ten of his retainers remained loyal to him in the face of his treason, we would be slaughtered! No, to arrest the Count we would need to marshal the Home Guard or the entirety of the Empress¡¯s Shield. Doing so would invite disaster! No noble could bear to stand by and do nothing as we so openly move against one of their own. Chaos would reign and they would rebel against us, causing thousands more needless deaths as our men slaughtered one another with impunity. The Duke would not even need to make a final assault, he would come over the earthen embankments and find naught but the corpses of foolish men.¡± Clenching the bridge of his nose tightly between his fingers, Nathaniel tried to talk down Andross¡¯s passion with his cold logic.


    Of all things to be saddled with, the bodyguards from whom he could conceal no act just had to include an idealist. How Andross had survived the trials to become one of the Empress¡¯s Shield with such a bleeding heart, he knew naught. They were supposed to be cold and inscrutable, loyal to none but the will of the Empress. From long years of acquaintance, he knew well that she was anything but warm and passionate. It was evident that the city folk were far from the only ones to soften after the close of the civil war if the Empress¡¯s Shield itself had been so compromised.


    ¡°For what purpose did our people pay the price in blood to cast down the old regime, if this callous disregard of life has been allowed to fester within the ranks of command and shape every decision made, every order given? Did you not serve in the civil war yourself? Did you not bear witness to the countless horrors of the dead and dying, of youth sacrificed before they could grow to manhood, of thoughtless nobles sipping wine while the people they were charged to protect were put to the sword? Why would you willingly return us to such benighted days? Please, I beg of you, at least confer with the Empress before sending so many of the city¡¯s defenders to such pointless deaths. If she were to approve of such a plan, although my heart may be pained, I would heed it without question.¡± Andross asked, almost pleading now, his eyes red with sorrow as he was forced to confront the almost evil calculations on the part of the Empire¡¯s upper echelons.


    ¡°You misunderstand Andross. While I may have conceived of this particular ploy upon my own initiative, as is my right as Lord Protector, the Empress has agreed with every detail of the city¡¯s defensive planning, down to the minutiae. It is not by my hand that we are returned to the times of yore, but by that of the Duke, and others of his ilk pining as they are for the petty power they had lost. The Empress has decided to match fire with fire, and in doing so grasped the opportunity to crush those that would take advantage of the Empire¡¯s time of crisis. These men you see before you, that we have fought beside, and with whom we have valiantly defended this city until now, have always been intended to perish in battle. Sacrificial pawns, their near complete destruction as a fighting force whilst defending the earth works has long since been writ in stone, by the Empress¡¯s own hand no less. It could be no other way, not with how she had reinstated the right of levy to that den of snakes. Even without such flagrant treason on the part of the Count, it had been arranged so that the survivors would be few enough in number to pose but little threat to either the Empress or city. With the treason of Count Stern, I have simply advanced the already existing preparations for their noble sacrifice falling in battle against the foe. Nathaniel solemnly corrected the misconceptions held by Andross regarding his sovereign¡¯s ethics, or in this case, the lack thereof.


    It was a wonder he had never held such qualms before, considering her regularly bloodthirsty and tyrannical acts, but perhaps he viewed her oppression and abuse of the nobility as somehow different from that of the peasantry. Andross audibly gulped as the reality set in, his mailed fist clenching tightly in impotent rage. As he reconsidered the situation, perhaps it was better that such a self righteous fool as Andross had been tasked with guarding him. He would stand to learn a great deal that may yet lift the naivete from his eyes and, most conveniently, he was placed far enough from the machinations of any real consequence to pose little threat.


    If he had not been, the potential damage his idealism could have caused was enormous. It was a tragedy to be sure, but a necessary one for, if not the survival of the city, then at least that of the Empress and as many of her defenders as could be saved. Nathaniel could not allow anything to stand in the way of that end. Neither Andross¡¯s idealism, nor the Empress¡¯s inexperience, nor the petty sense of morality and ethics, the last vestiges of a better man, held deeply within himself. Sufficiently disciplined, Andross turned his head away, no longer willing to meet Nathaniel¡¯s gaze while his values fought a war of annihilation within his heart.


    Hours later, deep into the near pitch black night and long after the supply train had been positioned, Nathaniel¡¯s predictions were once more found wanting. Creeping through the total darkness imposed by a waning moon so dimly lit it was as if it could not bring itself to bear witness to the events unfolding below, a troop of men snuck across the mucky field. Clad head to foot in fully plated armor emblazoned with dozens of intricate designs and crests unique to every man, they were not the yeomen of the day¡¯s prior attack, but full knights sworn by both oath and honor to the Duke.


    They were eerily silent as they marched, their armor not eliciting even a faint clinking as they walked no matter the grinding movement of the articulated plate, as if enshrouded in a cloud of silence. Making swift progress they walked across the field, somehow unimpeded by its thick layer of muck, their armor maintaining a reflective sheen unsullied by the earth even as they strode across the mire. Bearing no torches, they passed unseen by the sentries posted around the earth works, relying solely upon the distant light of their opponent¡¯s campfires to guide their way. Only after entering within fifty paces of the earth works did they cease their silent march, breaking into a sprinting charge that saw them quickly reach and dispatch the camp¡¯s sentries before they could even draw a blade. But, with the sharp and terrified cries of men caught unawares and butchered, their voices cut into feeble gurgles as they fell, the men encamped at the earth works were alerted.


    Screams soon filled the air as the Duke¡¯s knightly host swept down upon the unsuspecting peasant levy. Having been caught entirely unawares, unarmored, and sleeping or relaxed by roaring fires, and entirely exhausted by the ceaseless combat of the day, what proceeded was no battle. To call it a battle would be to imply that both sides held at least some slim sliver of hope for victory. To call what happened a battle would be gross mockery of the fallen. No, what had transpired was merely slaughter, a great butchery as the city¡¯s defenders were cut down with no more resistance than lambs herded into an abattoir. Everywhere sleeping men were ruthlessly stabbed within their tents, torches taken from the blazing fires thrown onto the shelters of the unsuspecting, or even the few men awake and in arms distance of their weapons being overcome in a sea of malevolent, blood spattered steel. With a meager force of only a few hundred knights, the sprawling encampments of conscripted peasants erected around the earth works had been reduced to a scene of barren desolation, one where everywhere walked the specter of death.


    In between the ruthless eyes concealed behind opaque helms of the Dukes Knights and the flaming scene of destruction and death ran the survivors. Screaming in a mixture of fear, pain, and anger, everywhere they ran, trying to flee, scrambling for weapons, or desperately attempting to form up into organized bands of resistance. But even the latter would not save them as they were no match for the experienced and disciplined knights, outfitted as they were in their panoply of war, especially not as exhausted as the peasants were from the day¡¯s fighting. The more quick witted of the levy¡¯s sergeants gathered all of the men that they could muster before affecting a quick retreat back to the outer city. It had long been the plan to retreat within its maze like depths, and while they would likely lose the vast majority of the earth works¡¯ defenders, they could still save some few, lucky souls. They were fortunate, as the Duke¡¯s knights cared naught for chasing a mere handful of survivors when the majority of their grim harvest lay before them, ready to be reaped.


    Nathaniel and his bodyguards stood in mute horror at the carnage unfolding before their very eyes. What a disaster! Twice now he had underestimated the aggressive tactics of the Duke, each time to his great sorrow. This had been the attack that the near endless waves of yeomen infantry had paved the way for, and this had been why the Dule¡¯s knights and men at arms had been so conspicuously absent from the day¡¯s assaults. But how had they drawn so near? The heavy steel favored by knights steeped in the old ways was not quiet, they should have been heard by the sentries while hundreds of paces distant. Nor was it light, by the time they had slogged their way through the thousands of corpses strew about upon the field and through the inches deep quagmire turned to near liquid by the marching, fighting, and dying of well over ten thousand men, they should have been as exhausted as the Empress¡¯s men. Yet here they were! Hale and hearty and not a moment¡¯s respite did they require as they rent and cleaved their way through the peasantry.


    For his own part and that of his bodyguards, they were already dressed in their armor, ever vigilant not only of the hidden blades of their foe, but of that of their allies as well. It was a fortuitous circumstance that very well may have saved their lives that day. Donning armor as intricate and heavy as that popular in Albion during the days of the civil war was a rather involved affair, and would take a great deal of precious time in the face of a determined enemy bent upon their slaughter. Even if they had abandoned their armor, they could have been caught as they fled and easily cut down as unprotected as they were without its enveloping steel plates.


    ¡°The battle is lost, there is nothing we can do here. We must make for the outer city at once before the foe catches up to us.¡± With an appraising eye, Nathaniel quickly deduced the dire straits of the city¡¯s defenses and ordered a withdrawal. His three bodyguards all nodded their heads in silent assent. Not even the ever interjecting Andross could bring himself to criticize as he gazed upon the terrible scene before him. There would be no salvaging of a hopeless battle so far gone, all they could do was retreat and regroup to be prepared to fight on at another time.


    The four men had encamped for the night far beyond the bounds of the peasant¡¯s camps, not far from the outer city. Thankfully that meant that they had some time to pack their belongings before the Duke¡¯s marauding knights would be upon them. It was truly a blessing given the several very sensitive reports detailing the city¡¯s defenses that were secured within Nathaniel¡¯s luggage. The forces of the Empress may have failed to hold the earth works for even a single day against the determined forces of the Duke, but he did not intend for the other layers of the city¡¯s defenses to fall with such ease. Learning from his mistaken assumptions regarding the Duke¡¯s strategy and leading a more trained and well equipped force than the peasant levy, he hoped to hold for some days yet in the rest of the city. To that end, retaining such important documents far from the eyes of the Duke¡¯s men was crucial, or he may yet have been forced to abandon the rest of the city with as much swiftness as the Duke had taken the earth works.


    He glanced westward, to where Count Stern¡¯s men were encamped. They were positioned far from the edge of the earth works, far enough to be spared the brunt of the Knights¡¯ assault. The camp was also quick to rouse it would seem, possessing a greater number of awakened men, several even already donning their armor. A testament both to the count¡¯s military experience and the fact his men were relatively fresh, having been so conspicuously absent from the day¡¯s previous fighting, he supposed. As he continued to observe, he sighted the count himself, already donning a suit of battle scarred armor as he surrounded himself with a few retainers. Was this the start of some noble stand? The Duke¡¯s knights were few, and while they had reaped a grisly harvest, they had done so through surprise and superior skill. If they met with the mustered might of Count Stern¡¯s fresh troops, could they still manage to overrun them?


    Keen on learning of the outcome of such a battle, both of his foes seemingly intent on destroying the other, he observed with interest as he packed. While the Count¡¯s men were still madly scrabbling to help each other don what armor they could, the Count himself seemed in conference with his retainers. He must have been angry as, even from a distance, Nathaniel could see the Count¡¯s arms gesticulating wildly. He must have discovered the wagons impeding his retreat, Nathaniel mused. With no where left to run, what would the Count do?


    The next few minutes stretched by slowly as the Duke¡¯s knights came nearer and nearer to the Count¡¯s camp. A nervous ripple erupted within the ranks of the Count¡¯s peasants. It seems that while avoiding battle may have allowed them to retain their strength over the course of the day, it had done little to benefit their courage. Suddenly a volley of arrows were loosed targeting the rampaging knights. It was all for naught, as but few of the heavily armored men were even injured, let alone slain, and the rest had been alerted to the presence of a seemingly organized branch of the Empress¡¯s thoroughly decimated army.


    With haste did the Duke¡¯s knights charge against the Count¡¯s lines, the longbowmen finding their missiles all but useless and attempting to switch to lighter weapons only to find their lack of personal skill insufficient to pose much threat to men born to the melee. While the Count¡¯s retainers stepped in as the longbowmen started to rout in panic, they did not possess the numbers to significantly delay the hundreds of knights that had begun arriving to the scene of battle. Soon the entire force was routed, all involved fleeing towards the outer city. Less than one hundred of the Duke¡¯s knights lay slain upon the remains of the Count¡¯s encampment, despite both his personal experience as a veteran warrior and the refreshed state of his men.


    Nathaniel turned his gaze to where he had sighted the Count not long ago. Had he gone down nobly in the fighting? Despite his clear intentions for treachery, he was a veteran of the civil war and it was not inconceivable that he decided to die alongside his ambitions as his men were slaughtered before his eyes. If he had done so, Nathaniel would even have posthumously forgiven his treachery. A very generous offer from one such as he. But it was not to be, casting his gaze closer to the city, beyond the wall of wagons, he sighted the Count making off to the north, albeit making slow progress set back by both his armor and the retainers of his that had clearly taken some wounds in the previous fighting. Although it seemed the Count himself remained unharmed. It would seem that the good Count was quick to cut and run as the Duke¡¯s men approached his position, even leaving what few men he still had to their miserable fate. Now that would just not do, he thought to himself with an evil grin.

 Chapter Thirteen

    The defenses of the earth works were sturdy, but the enemy had been relentless. No matter the stiff resistance they faced, they pressed onwards steadily whittling away at the city¡¯s defenses. It had been only a matter of times until the call for retreat had been raised, and all the while Count Stern had ensured that his own men approached not the chaotic melee at the front. It had been the perfect plan, one forged by decades of experience in both court and upon the battlefield. With its success, he would have stood to not only regain his old powers, but to reach even new heights of power. Perhaps even an elevation of title would have been in order, finally gaining the recognition he so richly deserved.


    It was but a simple matter, awing the other commanders with both his high title and decades of experience upon the field of battle. The others were rather gullible and easy to manipulate, a given he supposed considering their tender years. Most of the local nobility called upon to defend the earth works were no older than thirty, little more than mere boys! They had gained their titles through the misfortunes of their family patriarchs, whose lives were lost either in the heat of battle during the civil war, or executed during the Empress¡¯s purges in the subsequent years. They had never known battle and had served as a rather captivated audience as he regaled them with colorful tales of his own exploits upon the field.


    They were ever so eager for advice from such a storied veteran that, without question, he had gained mastery over the formulation of the plans of battle, whether they be in tactics, stratagems, or troop dispositions. They had not once dared to voice concern that the Count¡¯s troops never seemed close at hand when the foe approached, even as their own men fell in droves. Whether they were truly so na?ve and clueless to strategy or had simply been blinded by their idolatry of his own position it mattered not, for the effect was the same.


    While the defensive line crumbled and frayed at the seams, eroding more and more with every enemy assault, his men rested far from the field of battle, biding their time. When the call to retreat was announced, they would be at almost full strength, ready and waiting to conduct an orderly withdrawal back into the city. Once inside, he would possess thousands of disciplined and well equipped men, far more than any that might oppose him.


    As the Home Guard fought and died holding the outer city, he would wait and prepare. While he was not na?ve enough to believe with surety that the Duke¡¯s army would prevail, with every exchange it seemed more likely. With the Home Guard occupied holding the curtain wall or the narrow alleys of the outer city, he and his men would be at their leisure to sabotage the city¡¯s defenses. Striking swiftly from the rear, they could overwhelm the defenders at the gatehouse, flinging the gates wide to allow the Duke¡¯s forces entry simultaneously as they silenced the city¡¯s armament of cannon. While taking the entirety of the curtain wall upon which the cannon were mounted from the rear would be a nigh insurmountable challenge, the ammunition stores of those cannon were not so guarded, and would swiftly be destroyed with a simple application of incendiaries.


    By the time the severely depleted and exhausted vanguard of the Duke¡¯s army came clear of the alleyways of the outer city, it would find the curtain wall¡¯s defenses all but completely annihilated. There, with the gates swung wide, a strong and fresh body of men in the Count¡¯s employ would lay waiting to assist them in a direct assault upon the palace. For rendering the Dule such timely aid, and likely sparing the lives of thousands of his men in the process, he would surely be generously rewarded.


    Possibly, he would even earn admittance to the Duke¡¯s inner circle of advisors held only by aristocrats of great ability of status. It would be refreshing, to not only regain his gods granted rights bestowed upon him at birth as a nobleman, but to also have it be done in service to a new sovereign, one that actually bore appreciation of the Empire¡¯s martial class in lieu of the Empress¡¯s eternal enmity. With nostalgia towards the golden ages of old and greedy eyes contemplating riches and prestige previously unimagined, he had schemed for the treacherous deaths of tens of thousands of the city¡¯s defenders.


    But alas, it would seem that his aspirations for the future were not to be as he gazed upon the conflagration rapidly consuming what had once been the encampment of the earth works¡¯ garrison. The men of the Duke had struck swiftly and without warning in the depths of the night. The nobility and peasants that had hitherto served as an able bulwark of flesh between his men and the enemy had been all but obliterated in the ensuing chaos.


    With neither men of any high rank living upon the field, nor a direct missive from the Lord Protector, it fell to the Count to begin the call for retreat. His men remained alive and well at least, for now, but they would need to flee as a body with haste lest his final hope for advancement slip through his fingers. Unfortunately for the Count, however, the misfortunes he was beset by did not end with the sudden onset of battle. Just as he was about to give the order to sound a general call for retreat, a messenger sent from one of his lieutenants found him.


    ¡°Pardon my intrusion m¡¯lord, but I bring evil tidings from Sir Jasper! We are trapped, surrounded by the wagons of the supply train. The only path clear to the outer city now lies through the advancing enemy!¡± The man¡¯s face was awash with terror as he delivered the dire message.


    ¡°We will need to form up then. Lad, deliver the instruction to Sir Jasper that the camp must be roused to battle and dressed into ranks. The foe may have caught the others unawares, but with a determined formation we have hope yet!¡± His face stoic, desperately trying to conceal his own mortal terror clutching at his heart from within, the Count dismissed the messenger. It would not do to visibly be as terrified as he felt at the news, for his life and dreams rested upon the resilience of his men in the face of the foe.


    With a grave aura, he crossed the camp towards where their planned line of retreat had lain. All about him, shouting men gave orders and groggy men frantically donned armor or scrambled for their weapons, creating a veritable cacophony of desperate sound. Standing near the edge of the camp, his back to the campfires to preserve his vision, he squinted out into the darkness. It was a dim night, with only the most meager sliver of moonlight left to illuminate anything not lying beneath the warm gaze of a fire. It was such deep dark that he almost missed it.


    Large blocky outlines, almost invisible in the dark, lay well beyond the revealing light of campfires but were betrayed by the barest glow off of their light grey canvas coverings. These were the wagons of the camp¡¯s supply train, and must have been driven to that point earlier that day to deliver provisions and ammunition to the garrison. How none of his men had noticed the movement in sufficient time for the Count to have devised countermeasures, he could not say.


    But the presence of the wagons cutting off his men¡¯s line of retreat cast all of his conniving and scheming down into ruin. The blocks of armed and armored men, either peasants or the Count¡¯s personal retainers, would never be able to negotiate their way through those obstacles without breaking the formations down into scores of individuals, squeezing through small gaps in the veritable wooden wall. It would be slow going, and with the formation dissolving to affect a passage, they would be helpless once the enemy reached them. No, it seemed that if he wished to retain any hope of advancement he must have his men repel the Duke¡¯s knights.


    Thankfully in his foresight and owing to his extensive experience upon campaign, he had arranged for not a mere handful of sentries, but scored of them armed and fully armored, ready to fight upon a moment¡¯s notice. They had quickly become aware of the chaos reigning in the other camps and roused the his band to battle. Unlike the amateurs that had been so swiftly dispatched amongst the other camps, there the foe would find the Count¡¯s men prepared and waiting for their arrival, with neither their strength nor their numbers diminished from the day¡¯s battles. There may have been hope yet for his ambitions.


    Seeing the distant enemy slowly approaching, small groups of one or two having been alerted to the camp¡¯s rousing to action, the commander of the band¡¯s skirmishing element, Sir Jasper, gave the order to begin loosing volleys of arrows upon the foe. The nearby enemies were but few in number, likely swiftly dispatched by a judicious application of loosed missiles. If they could drive off the foe within the immediate vicinity about the camp, they would likely gain stay of execution enough to maneuver the entire formation around the supply train to affect a fighting retreat back to the outer city. Or, failing in that objective, they could at least hope to drive off the enemy after inflicting sufficient casualties. Overconfident as the foe surely was after such a night of slaughter, they would be caught upon the back foot should they face significant resistance. Few in number already, heavy casualties would force them, at least temporarily, to withdraw. They had already won after all, there was but little point in the Duke¡¯s elites unnecessarily sacrificing their lives to prevent the egress of a few thousand mere peasants to no further benefit.


    The first volleys of arrows met the steel bulwark of charging knights like so much rain, deflecting off of smooth metallic plates and falling impotently to the ground. Only a meager handful of knights were felled even after three further volleys, the longbowmen being unblooded in the field and neither calm and collected enough to aim accurately nor experienced enough in battle to be able to accurately target the chinks in the armor of the enraged steel hulks actively barreling towards them.


    Once the lines were met in a great clash the longbowmen immediately gave way, possessing not the courage to stand in the face of imminent death. Though some amongst their number held billhooks or swords close at hand, they availed them little against experienced knights. Lines melting like butter set upon a heated pan the archers fell back, many having fallen to the wicked blades of the foe, but many more streaming away from the clash as they turned and fled. The knights and men at arms in the Count¡¯s service stood at a distance behind the retreating longbowmen. While they kept their formation open, to facilitate the retreat of the archers upon contact with the enemy, the furrows lacked the width necessary to allow such a rapidly disintegrating formation means of egress. Instead of the planned calm and orderly withdrawal of archers, to be relieved by the Count¡¯s heavy infantry, both formations disintegrated as the sheer mass of the archers flew back and parted the heavy infantry¡¯s lines like a wedge driven into soft wood.


    Everywhere men ran, tripping and falling over shaky, unsteady movement, breaking joints and limbs running into the heavily armored bodies of the Count¡¯s heavy infantry. A few in their haste even managed to skewer themselves upon brandished blades. With every thud of men falling to the ground, whether in death or mere injury it mattered not for in the veritable stampede of men the fallen were not long for the world, new and more treacherous obstacles were lain in the path of the retreating bulk. The terror of the fleeing men was driven to a peak as they found their route of retreat increasingly treacherous in a self perpetuating cycle of death. By the end more men lay upon the field, trampled by their own companions than had been felled by the enemy. The heavy infantry themselves were batted at like trees in a gale, pushed this way or that as their formations were chewed apart by a seething, bleeding tide of humanity.


    With their lines shattered beyond repair, the remaining knights of the Duke set upon the isolated clumps of their counterparts in the Count¡¯s employ as the roar of battle gave way to shouts of challenge and the melee collapsed into dozens of individual duels. While the night¡¯s butchery had been made to great success, the ever glory seeking knights of Brackenweir could resist not the allure of single combat against their peers within the Count¡¯s ranks. The knights and men at arms of the Count were no mere peasants, having in many cases fought in the civil war and possessing a martial background almost equal to that of their opponents.


    They availed themselves well in the duels, giving as much as they received, but eventually tired. Being a mere Count, how could the quantity of elite retainers he possessed hope to compare to that of the Duke? Eventually, exhausted by relentless streams of challenges, they had fallen where they stood. No prisoners were taken from among the Empress¡¯s men, for the Duke¡¯s knights knew well the impoverishment of their counterparts. They would never be paid a ransom, and prisoners would only serve to increase the strain upon their already dwindling supplies. Few of the Count¡¯s men had managed to escape, the duels only ever beginning as the outnumbered heavy infantry had been surrounded upon all sides by the Duke¡¯s knights.


    Among those that had managed to flee, were Count Stern himself, Sir Jasper, and three surviving knights escorting them to safety. Once they had felt the formation of longbowmen begin buckling, each man had turned tail and fled, knowing that further resistance was futile and fearing for their very lives. Fortunately for them, the Duke¡¯s knights, as starved for prestige as they were, possessed more interest in either observing or fighting in duels of honor, allowing the survivors time enough to gain some distance.


    Having fled first, Count Stern and his entourage reached the impeding wagons of the supply train long before the retreating longbowmen. Squeezing themselves betwixt the tightly packed wagons, each of the five men successfully negotiated their way through in a span of no more than a minute. However, it had been a rather tight squeeze within their armor and they had passed individually. There was no possibility that the nearly two thousand fleeing peasants could duplicate their safe passage. Having forced their way through, the Count and his entourage fled north, back towards the protective embrace of the outer city, unkeen in being caught in flight by either their enemies or the men they had left abandoned upon the field of battle.


    Unfolding behind the grimly retreating men, was the death knell of Count Stern¡¯s petty ambition. Thousands of screaming peasants, most bearing some manner of wound already, either from combat or from the frenzied retreat, hurtled themselves at the supply wagons. Weakened and exhausted from fighting, and with many left at least partially lame by their injuries, they clumsily tried to force themselves through the narrow passages. Here, even more so than when running through the heavy infantry¡¯s formations, falling meant certain death. With thousands of men trying to desperately force themselves through such tight confines, they pushed and prodded at the men in front of them, pressing forward and trying to compress their bodies to squeeze through with such great force that the pushing mass upon the leaders caused limbs to snap like dried twigs. Crippled, such men fell where they stood, unable to press onward, and were swiftly trampled to death by their fellows. As time passed on, more men so fell and filled the narrow defiles that had formed the only available passages to safety until they became all but unnavigable.


    Having satisfied their lust for glory dispatching their counterparts, the Duke¡¯s knights pressed forward, visibly drawing nearer to the frightened mass of fleeing peasants. By that point, only a few hundred men had even attempted passage between the wagons, and of that quantity, not more than one hundred had reached the other side. With their imminent demise swiftly approaching them, the rest of the seething mass of humanity surged forward and into the wagons like water strained through a sieve.


    Finding the passages that would have allowed them to pass upright filled by the dead and dying, they crawled beneath, they climbed above, and they even forced their own fellows to the ground so that they could scramble atop their twitching corpses. The scene was filled with cries of fear or screams of suffering and torment. The men beneath the wagons found the space so compacted, especially after the weight of those climbing above forced the wagons to sink into the muck, that they could not press on, save by scraping their backs into rent strips of raw flesh as they tried to force themselves through.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Those attempting to climb had their fingernails torn and their hands flayed as they fought to secure grips upon the firm wood of the wagons, slick with both rain and blood as it was. The lucky few that climbed atop often saw the safety of the far side of the wall of wagons for the briefest and most beautiful moment, only to be cruelly pulled back down into the roiling human mass by those using them as supports to try and pull themselves up. A few men that had not already cast aside their implements of war in the mad frenzy of retreat availed themselves well hewing into the sides of the wagons. But they were only met with frustration upon finding the interiors filled to the brim with empty barrels and crates of heavy wood. So tightly packed were the containers that they could not be bypassed without removal, a task that was long beyond the capabilities of the frightened mob.


    As the Duke¡¯s knights reached the wall of wagons, they ruthlessly cut apart any that remained standing. Eventually they worked their way through the few survivors until they at last laid their eyes upon a scene of utter devastation. Slack jawed, they stood by, paralyzed by a mixture of both awe and terror in equal measure. They did not need to even lift a blade to slaughter the rest of the retreating archers, for the animals had accomplished that particular feat to great effect on their own. A few of the knights, despite long having inured themselves to grisly scenes from decades of experience upon the battlefield, removed their helms and vomited, unable to bear the wretched sight before them.


    The wet soil was awash with bodies, each one covered in scratches and blood, in most cases not gained by battle or abrasion against the wood that they had attempted to climb, but in regular clumps of four or five that could have been inflicted only by human fingernails. Beyond the bodies littering the ground were the wagons, similarly damaged as the fallen men, and covered in blood and scratch marks. Betwixt the wagons, underneath them, and even atop them in many cases were more bodies, this time with limbs contorted from unnatural pressures into maddening affronts to the art of geometry. The most horrendous revelations of all, as the knights noted to utter horror and grim acceptance, was the fact that most of the mass of humanity lying broken beyond repair, rent and torn asunder by their fellows in a mad scramble for life, still drew breath. Moaned pains of agony, the pleading prayers of the dying, the broken, and the laughter of those whose minds had departed the world long before that of their flesh filled the air, subjecting the Duke¡¯s knights to a grisly cacophony of vile sound.


    Here the knights halted, taking it upon themselves to grant mercy to the broken men before them. They may have been traitors, driven to rebel against their nation¡¯s rightful ruler in pursuit of petty riches and prestige, but they still remained knights. They still retained some twisted sense of honor, despite the steady decline of morality upon the part of the Duke that had so thoroughly infiltrated his army along the long march. Most importantly and despite all, they still remained men of Albion. No matter the civil conflict that they had helped to instigate, they fought for just another claimant for Albion¡¯s crown. The men lying bent and broken, their innocent lives brought to sudden and unbearably agonizing ends, still remained the fellow countrymen of the knights. The survivors of this terrible massacre could not number more than a few hundred. Here the knights would cease their advance, uncaring of the meager handfuls of survivors in the wake of the night¡¯s slaughter, and set about granting the final mercy of the gods to their suffering countrymen.


    The Count and his entourage walked, weak and weary from a flight weighed down by their heavy arms and armor. Within the depths of night¡¯s enshroudment, blanketing the earth in an utter darkness so deep it was pierced only by the distant lights of the outer city, the gentle breeze of the wind and clattering of rain upon steel were the only audible sounds. None dared to speak, not after the night¡¯s events, the death of the hopes and dreams of every man present. Not after what they had borne witness to as they fled either, desperate as they were to forget the suffering, dying screams of thousands of men that had assaulted their ears as they broke both their bodies and minds in a desperate bid to escape. They had abandoned those men, left them to die upon the field of battle in fear of their lives, only to leave those men to suffer an unimaginably agonizing fate. Guilt weighed heavily upon their minds, but they could never quell it, never seek redemption. None could ever learn of their cowardly flight from battle. If they attempted to rejoin the survivors for the security of numbers they would be recognized, set upon by wild beasts and torn limb from limb.


    No, they could only hope to find succor within the shelter of the outer city, use their positions as officers to get far from the survivors of their band, and eventually to flee the city in shame as well. The Empress would not suffer any of them to live once she learned of their cowardice, and with her personality already so twisted by sadism and hate any death so imposed would be far worse than anything their enraged men might visit upon them. Their tortured bodies and minds would serve as warning to generations of future aristocrats and generals to terrify them into obedience. Nor could they turn to the Duke, for they no longer possessed tribute to offer him, and surely he would show no mercy to any that had shown even a sliver of defiance in the face of his knights.


    It was a blessing that, as sluggish as their own pace had been, the peasants following in their wake travelled at a more subdued pace. Burdened by the weak and the lame, they bodily supported one another in their weary retreat, entirely unsuspecting that their former leaders were but an hour¡¯s march ahead. The gentle breeze died as it met the stone and timber wall constituting the homes of the outer city. Safety at last, every man amongst the group thought. Though they could no longer see any light save that of the moon¡¯s feeble gleam, as obscured as their vision was by intervening walls of densely packed buildings, they knew that they would soon return to the comforting lights of the city if they advanced but one mile farther.


    The wind was silent and even the ceaseless pattering of the rain seemed to still, as if the world around them held its breath. The men¡¯s breaths caught in their throats as it seemed all they could hear was the sound of their own pounding heart beats. Casting uneasy glances to either side, they neither saw nor heard anything amiss, but with every futile act their breathing grew more ragged, and the intense pounding of their hearts increased in ferocity, until it reached a crescendo. With a sudden clang emanating from the edge of the road before them, every man in the group cast his alerted gaze forward in both fear and terror, brandishing his weapon of choice towards the offending sound.


    Sweat beaded down the foreheads of the agitated men, falling in heavy droplets that mixed with the rain, sticking to their eyelashes and obscuring their surroundings even more. From behind a rotting wall came movement, drawing the piercing gaze of five terrified men as what seemed like a dull brown blob stepped into the alleyway, clouded as their vision was by the sweat hotly stinging at their eyes. As they blinked, the thing came into sharp focus. Not brown but red, it was a large and scruffy looking dog with amber eyes. Seeing this, the men sighed with relief, relaxing their guard, eased from the prior tension. It was just a stray dog, likely fed scraps by bored men of the Home Guard. The dog scampered off into another alleyway as it noticed the heavily armored men blocking its intended route. Catching their breaths and calming their still rapidly beating hearts, the men turned towards one another before abruptly stopping.


    A loud crash of metal upon stone rang out as a warhammer had fallen from the loosened grip of Sir Jasper, the sudden surprise having made him lose control of his already relaxed hand from the shock. For what met each man¡¯s gaze was but two pairs of eyes, for the group now numbered only three.


    ¡°Where are the others?!¡± The strained voice of Sir Jasper filled the silent void hanging heavily over the group.


    ¡°Truly were they just beside me¡­ I didn¡¯t hear a thing¡­¡± Returned the mumbled words of the two officers¡¯ sole remaining escort.


    Eyes wide open in terror frantically swept up and down the alleyway in search for the missing men. Not a thing moved, not a light shone, and the air was filled with naught but the panicked breathing of terror stricken men. For two men as heavily armed and armored as their guards to suddenly disappear would mean that they had abandoned the group¡­ or had met an unfortunate end upon the blade of an assassin. But to slay such skilled knights and with nary a deathly cry nor the clang of steel upon steel, it would require an assassin of unprecedented skill.


    When and where had the two men vanished? Had they been amongst the group until they had been distracted by the dog? Or had the two vanished long before, the group only noticing their absence in the dark because of the dog? Questions rapidly ran through the minds of every surviving man as the group contemplated its situation. Casting gazes about frantically, the men scurried down the alleyway with their weapons pointed in every direction. At even the barest trace of noise, the men would stop and with trembling hands thrust sword and halberd at the offending sound. Several rats had been slain thus, thoroughly skewered for daring to squeak or scratch at timbers, before the men once more began to relax.


    ¡°I think the others may have simply deserted my lord. But fret not, for I remain your true servant.¡± The remaining knight softly spoke in reassuring tones to the Count, having come to his conclusion after long minutes of quiet contemplation.


    Upon reflection, their fears had been ludicrous. No assassin could fell two fully armed and armored veteran guards with nary a wayward sound. If a man capable of such a feat existed, he would have been drafted into the ranks of the Empress¡¯s Shield, not spent his days skulking about in the dark like some mere criminal. The missing knights must have lost their nerves at the thought of the Empress¡¯s wrath and fled, unwilling to even enter the city. It did not hurt either, that with their scandalous retreat and abandonment of their lord the remaining guard stood to gain great esteem in the eyes of the Count. The entire group relaxed once more, the tension leaving their bodies as their frightened minds reconsidered the situation with rationality. All until the guard sighted a glinting light, one revealed by his passing in front of a window and blocking the dim light of the moon. There was some gleaming piece of metal inside¡­


    ¡°Assassin!¡± Screamed the remaining guard as he thrust his halberd through the window and struck the object that had so tellingly reflected the moon¡¯s light.


    But what he felt was not the meager resistance of flesh against steel, but that of steel deflecting from steel. He had not struck at an enemy, but at an empty suit of armor sitting upon a stand. It would seem that the building laying at the end of his halberd was one of the storerooms prepared by the Home Guard for use in the outer city¡¯s defense. But before any man in the group could relax, seeing the empty suit of armor for what it was, a curtain shifted in another window set in the building opposite to what had attracted the group¡¯s attention. Much too swift for any of them to react, the massive heavily armored bulk of a man of the Empress¡¯s Shield all but tackled the guard to the ground with the full bodied thrust of his great sword, until the dead man was run through with five feet of dully colored steel.


    Reacting entirely on instinct as they confirmed the presence of the assassin they had feared, Count Stern and Sir Jasper fled down the alleyway, desperately trying to place distance between themselves and their pursuer. But it was not to be, charging ahead first as the younger and fitter man, Sir Jasper ran until unexpectedly meeting resistance in the air, tumbling forward onto his face. His visage thoroughly bloodied, the crimson ichor of his life¡¯s blood oozing from a broken nose, he cast a pained gaze down at what had stopped him. A thin metal wire so light that he could not even feel its weight as he lay upon the ground had been lain across the alleyway at thigh height and had caused him to fall. Before his concussed mind could recover enough to regain his feet, the last thing Sir Jasper¡¯s saw was a large stone plunging directly for his prone form and steadily filling the vision of his wide eyes, until it crushed him with deadly effect.


    Count Stern could not even bring himself to scream, so overcome by shock was he at the slaughter of his companions. The assassin had borne the burning crown of the Empress, he was one of the Empress¡¯s Shield. They did not tend to act alone, nor were they used as assassins despite their great personal prowess, as the Empress so very thoroughly enjoyed public executions. They could only have been the men assigned as bodyguards to the Lord Protector. Somehow, the Empress¡¯s dog had survived the night¡¯s events with naught but three guards. Damn him!


    The Count knew not how, but his plan must have been revealed to the Lord Protector, and now he had come to slay the Count for his treason. The outer city no longer seemed like the safe haven it once was, he thought wearily as his mind was overcome by fear and doubt. Deep down, the Count knew well that running was pointless. The Lord Protector commanded the Home Guard and knew every building, every barricade, and apparently even every window within the shadowy maze constituting its defenses. Perhaps if he had met the Lord Protector upon even and open ground and his guards still drew breath, he would at least possess some chance, no matter how faint it may have been. But alone and helpless, with an aging body unable to match pace with that of men still in their prime, he could only tremble in the dark, afraid. Perhaps if he just lay still in an enshrouded nook, the Lord Protector and his men would push past him in their search, allowing him opportunity to escape.


    The Count¡¯s mind still retained that na?ve hope for salvation, even as just shy of three hundred pounds of heavily armored bulk leapt down from above. The immense weight instantly brought the Count down so that he fell heavily to the ground upon his back. His breath came out ragged and bloody, crimson flecks of detritus oozing from his open mouth with every desperate wheeze. For an old man with aging, brittle bones the shock had been too great to bear, and his body was rent inside by dozens of painful fractures. His lungs were agonizingly pierced and though he could still draw breath, he felt not his legs for his spine was shattered. From above, the cold and featureless face of a steel great helm stared down upon him, the piercing brown eyes of Nathaniel stabbing through his flesh until he could swear he felt the hateful gaze boring into his very soul.


    ¡°Pardon me for dropping in upon you today Count Stern, but it would appear that the time has come for you to pay recompense for your crimes.¡± A hateful smile laid behind Nathaniel¡¯s helm as he mocked the dying man. His words were met with silence, broken only by the wheezing rasp of a mortally wounded old man.


    ¡°I must express my regret that your men had to suffer such a gruesome fate because of your petty ambition. I placed the supply train there to ensure you would not have the strength to defy the Empress, but it seems that in the swiftness of the foe¡¯s assault it led to far more deaths than I had intended. For my part, I will ensure the Empress looks after the families left behind by all of the men who so nobly sacrificed themselves in her defense.¡± Nathaniel¡¯s tone was sorrowful, but his glare never relented for even the barest moment as he gazed down upon Count Stern, as if he was observing writhing maggots.


    ¡°You know, while you were always going to be humbled in this battle, whether by enemy action or my treachery it mattered not, I was prepared to forgive your transgressions. Had you presided over a valiant last stand, or personally led your battered men to safety then we would not be conversing. But not only did you defy the Empress, but you also betrayed your own men, the people whom you swore an oath as a noble to protect with all of your power. I saw everything from afar. Had you maintained order within the ranks, something that should have been a matter of trifling consequence for a man of your experience, you could have repelled the foe or at least guaranteed an orderly withdrawal. But in your cowardice, you fled and caused the unnecessary deaths of thousands. In return for your evil, I do this to avenge your men!¡± Nathaniel¡¯s armored boot stomped down upon the right side of Count Stern¡¯s chest, caving in the armored plate and collapsing the man¡¯s lung. The weak wheezing of the felled Count approached that of a death rattle as his organs were crushed.


    The anger leeched from Nathaniel¡¯s body after delivering the blow. It had been cathartic, and richly deserved for such a snake as the Count, but it was unbecoming of neither himself as an honest man nor that of his high office. The Empress may draw pleasure from such terrible acts, but she was a cruel and vicious creature by nature. It seemed that he had spent too much time at her side of late, to be so thoroughly influenced, and he had let his baser instincts take control of his actions. There was no honor in this, the dead were not present to draw vindication after all, and they would have their revenge enough once the Count joined them. Pity colored Nathaniel¡¯s face as he gazed upon the broken body of the old man. It was time to end this, he had a city to defend, and time was of the essence.


    ¡°I hope the gods will forgive you for your crimes, for both your treachery against the Empress and the betrayal of your men. But know that neither I nor the Empress shall ever do so. I grant you the mercy of the gods, may they judge your soul accordingly.¡± Cleanly slitting the old man¡¯s exposed throat with a dagger, Nathaniel turned and left as the flicker of life faded from the Count¡¯s eyes.

 Chapter Fourteen

    As the pale sun brought dim light beneath a heavily overcast sky upon the third day of the rains, the people of Maegwyn awoke to an abrupt change in the city¡¯s status quo. The previous night the earth works surrounding the outer city had fallen, with over ninety percent of the garrison slain in a swift but terrible enemy raid against the fortifications. Hundreds of veteran knights and men at arms, and many thousands more conscripted peasants now lay dead and rotting in the burnt ruins of what had once been their encampment. The pride of the capital region¡¯s nobility had been thoroughly trodden upon and ground to dust, with only the most fortunate or cowardly among them having managed to return to the city intact. Even the indomitable veterans of the civil war that had been instrumental to the preparations of the earth works lay still and cold upon the field of battle.


    The enemy had by the time the subtle glow of the decrepit sun feebly illuminated the land below, thoroughly looted the camp. While the supplies had only been sufficient for a single day of the earth works¡¯ defense, they were a gift from the very gods themselves for the logistically floundering army of the Duke. It was the first fresh resources that had been secured in the weeks since their last pillaging, the Empress¡¯s depletion of the capital region having proven a near death blow to their ability to forage. Gaining considerable provisions and ammunition for their trouble, the Duke¡¯s army was strongly positioned to resume its advance under the light of day.


    The earth works themselves were mostly devoid of the foe that morning, owing to the fact that the city¡¯s armament of cannon held an unobstructed view of the interior of the captured fortifications. If the enemy had dared to group in such numbers to render the expenditure of shot and powder worthwhile, then their formations and any encampment they attempted to erect at the position would be torn apart from afar at the leisure of the city¡¯s defenders. Therefore, the Duke¡¯s army posted only a meager compliment of men there to serve as scouts and observers while the knights returned to their own encampment to rest and recuperate.


    The enemy had not yet encroached upon the outer city. The previous night the knights that had so thoroughly destroyed the outer layer of the city¡¯s defenses had halted and turned back well before reaching its twisting alleyways. The foe had seemingly been content only to drive the city¡¯s defenders from the earth works, before withdrawing back to their camp with an abundance of looted supplies in tow. Even the scouts seemed uninterested in approaching the labyrinthine network of buildings that composed the outer city, merely coldly observing the curtain wall from afar.


    It was most fortunate that the enemy had lacked the numbers the night before to assault the outer city after the absolute success of their raid. Under the cover of night, the city¡¯s cannon lay impotent and despite the lighting present in parts of the outer city, cannon fire had a far greater chance to strike the many intervening buildings than it did a body of troops advancing through the alleyways. No, after the enemy reached the outer city, the cannon would only be able to effectively fire once they penetrated cleanly through to the large area of cleared plazas immediately surrounding the curtain wall. By that point, the gunners manning the cannon would be in range of the enemy¡¯s skirmishers making the task increasingly hazardous.


    Nathanial leaned against the crenellated stone of the gatehouse tower, gazing thoughtfully at the enemy encampment. In quiet contemplation, he considered the previous day¡¯s events. That the Duke¡¯s knights would be able to thoroughly rout the conscripted peasantry employed by the local nobility he had held no doubt. The night attack itself was a bold tactic, one that placed the attacker, who could neither see the terrain nor the enemy lest they be sighted in turn bearing torches from afar, at a rather severe disadvantage until they reached the defenders. But he was coming to expect such bold and aggressive action from the Duke¡¯s army and it no longer seemed surprising. But the crux of the matter, what had led to the enemy managing to come so near to the city¡¯s defenses before being sighted despite the treacherous terrain, was still a matter of mystery. The thick muck should have rendered all but the most lightly armored infantry sluggish, forced to struggle through the tightly gripping mud at a snail¡¯s pace at best. But that was not what had transpired, the foe had arrived both swiftly and unmarred by their advance through the mire.


    Such discontinuities between the terrain and the night¡¯s events pointed to only one possibility, witchcraft. While he and the Empress had theorized the presence of one of the fell practitioners of the esoteric arts lurking within the enemy¡¯s ranks, it was another matter entirely to have evidence of that theory so thrust so poignantly before him. There were certainly mundane ways to quiet the loud clanking and clamoring sounds emitted by steel armor on the march, usually with the liberal application of oil to the armor¡¯s joints and overlapping plates. Such things were not done commonly, but had been known to happen to achieve the element of surprise during several battles in the civil war.


    But for all of his reasoning and experience, Nathaniel could not fathom how the enemy knights had crossed the boggy mire so effortlessly, at least not without the aid of some working of witchcraft. That they had only accomplished a single such supernatural feat in all of the days since their arrival three days passed, and that what was enacted only allowed a relatively small quantity of knights to make their assault was an indication of the practitioner¡¯s limitations. That no such witchcraft had been in evidence that morning, when the dawn¡¯s weak light had revealed several enemy cannons in the midst of being dragged halfway to the earth works, indicated that it would be some time yet before the city¡¯s defenders would once more be assailed by unnatural means.


    Thankfully, the enemy had been rather unprepared to take advantage of the success of their knights. The crew dragging the cannon they had intended to use to bombard the curtain wall from afar had been successfully forced back once the might of the city¡¯s own cannon was brought to bear against them. More of the foe had been ravaged during that one exchange, during their futile retreat against the might of the city¡¯s cannon, than had been slain the entire previous night. What¡¯s more, all of the enemy¡¯s toil was of but little avail as the battered ruins of the cannon so dragged now lay in pieces strewn about the muddy earth. If the foe¡¯s pet conjuror still possessed ability enough to intervene in the conflict in the foreseeable future, they would not have allowed their limited quantity of cannon to be so unilaterally destroyed.


    It was unusual, however, for the enemy to go so long without attacking. Given the Duke¡¯s increasingly aggressive strategy, Nathaniel had expected near ceaseless assaults upon the outer city in mirror to the assaults that had been made throughout the previous day against the earth works. But aside from the earlier failed ploy with the cannon, the enemy had not once stirred even as the sun rose, and it reached three hours past dawn. It was almost disappointing, eager as he was to avenge the fallen from the previous night. It would be a much fairer battle when he pitted the might of the Empress¡¯s Shield against the Duke¡¯s veterans in place of the mere peasants that had been so ineffective before. His idle musings were interrupted as a musical cacophony arose from the enemy encampment; its shrill trumpeting calls audible even from the long distance to the city. Behind the now completed and obscuring palisade of the encampment, dozens of colorful flags moved as one. It had taken some time, but the enemy was returning for another assault.


    He could see them as they left the camp, albeit with an unclear blur owing to relying upon his naked eyes and the great distance. Two entire armies of men, each posed of dozens of individual companies, marched out onto the field from the camp. Every company was composed of several hundred men, and there were dozens of companies within both groups. Well over ten thousand men now marched across the plains, far more than had ever been thrown against Maegwyn¡¯s defenses the previous day. It would seem that the Duke was greatly encouraged by his success in taking the outer fortifications, and held confidence that he could take the rest of the city in short order. There would be no reason to send so many men otherwise, as unless they took the curtain wall that day they would be savaged by the city¡¯s cannon upon any retreat.


    Every company present walked beneath a large and colorful banner, with the designs of the banners exotic and atypical of those of Albion, things that Nathaniel could put no house name to. Large enough to spy somewhat clearly even at such great distance, the banners depicted a wild assortment of varied things. Many were simple in design, consisting of geometric shapes and stripes oriented in various directions and clearly relying more upon their gaudy coloring than that of their plain designs to match the more intricate flags of their fellows. The rest were chaotic, clearly attempting to evoke the feeling of an aristocratic house¡¯s familial coat of arms while not being so tied to a noble title. A veritable microcosm of the natural world was presented with nearly every beast, either great or small, found beneath the sun¡¯s light in attendance. Varyingly depicted in playful or warlike scenes, the creatures were highly stylized and portrayed using bolts of expensively dyed cloth.


    Despite the colorful banners, the leading army of marching men that came out from the encampment were but plainly dressed. They moved in a mass of dull gray or brown trudging along in the muck, likely simple woolen or linen garments so common amongst the peasant folk. They did not seem well disciplined, the shakiness of their uneven lines plainly visible even from afar. The individual companies moved asynchronously with each other, to the point where the entire formation resembled a skewed and fraying rope, a veritable clump of loose and straying fibers. They carried what must be short spears or other close ranged instruments of battle, as the shafts the men held stood not much taller than themselves. None among them seemed to possess much in the way of armor, as only the rare glint of still shone out across the field from a handful of scavenged helmets other miscellaneous coverings.


    In sharp contrast to the leading army, the rear one was made up by men dressed in colors as dazzling as that of the flags they marched beneath. Far more disciplined, they walked in neatly dressed ranks, their long pikes perfectly balanced as they marched upon the uneven terrain of the mire. Each company moved well in time with their fellows, as if every man present was listening to the same drummer¡¯s beat as they stepped onward. While the individual companies formed the core of their formations, in a cloud orbiting each block of pikemen were skirmishers. From the great distance, Nathaniel could not spy their equipment, but likely it likely consisted of either bows or crossbows, as it was too damp for arquebuses to reliably fire.


    The front ranks of the companies of pikemen wore heavy armor, its glinting sheen sparkling dimly under the sun¡¯s light as each advanced. These more protected men would likely be expected to take the brunt of any missile fire and engage first with their opponents. They did not wield pikes, but shorter polearms that were likely halberds or similarly sized weapons. Their superior equipment and place of honor at the front of the formation indicated their status as respected veterans, something that was curiously missing from the leading army.


    These must be the Aachish mercenaries, Nathaniel thought with an appraising eye. They were certainly as flamboyant as they were lauded to be, although the leading army must consist entirely of new recruits given the vast gulf in appearance. It was fitting that they appeared now, when the outer city lay defenseless with all of its outer fortifications fallen. Likewise, the massed ranks of longbowmen that would have decimated the unarmored men of the leading army in other circumstances, now lay cold amidst the soil. The Duke must have a rather tenuous grasp upon his mercenaries indeed if he had allowed his own men to suffer such grievous casualties in the previous day¡¯s assault in place of these coin hungry thugs. Perhaps he had needed to coax them into battle with the prospect of plundering Maegwyn¡¯s outer city. As impoverished as the district was, it was still a part of the city and held far greater potential for rich plunder than the spartan earth works that the Duke¡¯s bannermen had fought and died for.


    As the two armies marched, they split apart from one another forming a vast envelope around the outer city. What had once been a field teeming with well over ten thousand marching men in a tiny space, now only held perhaps a few thousand for each mile. Their new lines stretched nearly from the southern banks of the engorged river to its northern inlet, encircling half of the entire city. It would seem that their intention was to engage the city from as wide a variety of angles as possible to stretch the curtain wall¡¯s cannon thin. Everywhere however, the leading army remained at the fore, with a nearly even split of men where each company of the rear army would be preceded by one of the leading army.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    About halfway across the field, the mercenaries passed the farthest of ranging markers placed by the Home Guard¡¯s first company of artillery. With a cacophonous boom, several of the iron beasts belched fire and death as their shot came screaming down from on high and plowed through the densely packed ranks of the mercenaries¡¯ leading army. Wherever the iron missiles touched, men were blown asunder into clouds of heavy red mist before they could raise even a scream. But as undisciplined as the leading army was, their disorganized and relatively loose formation proved resistant to the cannon fire as each man stood at some distance from his fellows. While the cannons reloaded, a laborious process that could take many minutes, the mercenaries continued to advance, shaken by the deaths of many of their fellow but not lacking in determination to march on.


    By the time that the second round of shot had been loaded into the city¡¯s cannons, the leading group of mercenaries had almost reached momentary cover in the shadow of the earth works. Shooting more hastily now that the enemy drew nearer, the accuracy of the cannon was diminished, and several shots went wild, plunging into the intervening earthen embankments instead of the foe. But the shots that did strike did so to great effect, plunging into formerly loose columns that had begun to converge to enter the gaps between the earth works. Once more the ground was strewn with bits and pieces of the fallen, the rest of the unfortunate men having been obliterated from the mortal plane of existence. Once composed of dull grays and browns, the advancing men were now spattered with hot and shining bright coatings of crimson. The sticky and viscous fluid soaked into their linen and wool garments with alacrity, permanently marring them and filling the owners with both fear and a sense of impending doom.


    But the leading army of mercenaries, as lightly armored as they were, made good time in their march and by the point that they vanished behind the obscuring cover of the outer city¡¯s buildings, the city¡¯s cannon had only managed two further salvos. In contrast to the swiftness of the fore group, the latter strode leisurely across the muddy tract. They made greater time than the Duke¡¯s knights would have in similar circumstances, despite their heavy armor. Evidently they were quite used to marching through such terrain from prior campaigns, but it still took them near twice the span than the fore group to reach the cover of the outer city. But for all of that time, they had interposed the fore group between them and Maegwyn¡¯s armament of cannon, and had suffered naught but two salvos, which they weathered with tenacity.


    It seemed that the fore group had been intended as expendable fodder for the survival of the slower and therefore more vulnerable latter group. It may have been cold hearted, but Aachenwald was a heartless land and those mercenaries, unlike the Duk¡¯s bannermen, were very experienced in assaults upon cities defended by a compliment of cannon. Such tactics had therefore arisen as a necessity, and they soon displayed their superiority when pitted against the more antiquated realm of Albion in the first real foreign invasion in centuries.


    By the time that the enemy had begun to diverge into its half encirclement of the city Nathaniel had departed the gatehouse. He walked swiftly and with purpose knowing full well that the invasion of the city was imminent, having his ears assailed by the raucous cacophony of cannon fire all the way. Eventually he reached one of the parade grounds that had been cleared in the outer city, one in which nine hundred and fifty men of the Empress¡¯s Shield were present. While not the full complement of the regiment, they were all that could be spared from the palace without fully compromising the Empress¡¯s safety. They were, to a man, dressed in armor as thick and antiquated as his own, ready and waiting to wage war in the Empress¡¯s name. Each man turned his head as Nathaniel entered the plaza, his three bodyguards in tow and raising a sharp clacking sound of metal upon stone with every step across the cobbled ground.


    While he would not be commanding the overall battle from afar, he had delegated that particular responsibility to the first captain of foot, he would be personally leading the Empress¡¯s Shield into battle. While possessing of incredible personal skill and tactical expertise in the defense of antiquated castles such as that of the palace, they were rather unschooled in tactics of trickery or street fighting that Nathaniel intended to use in the coming battle. Drawn as they may have been from the ranks of the legions¡¯ veterans, even the legions were seldom wont to engage in defensive maneuvers during the Empress¡¯s reign of peace. Therefore, their own commanders were woefully inadequate, and as the Lord Protector he alone possessed rank enough to command them in battle.


    At least, that was the excuse he had concocted when he had asked the Empress for permission to lead them. As unquestioningly loyal to the Empress as the regiment was, he could not trust them to utilize their abilities to the greatest extent possible in the coming battle. Especially not when they were as increasingly suspicious of him as they were, or at least on the part of certain individuals like Andross in light of his recent acts of personally and openly undermining the city¡¯s defenses. No, If he desired for their inevitable deaths to accomplish something of value, then he would have to lead them into the thickest of the fighting himself.


    As he entered the parade ground, Nathaniel stepped through parted ranks of the Empress¡¯s Shield and cast his gaze around the field. There were more of the imperial bodyguards assembled in one place than he had ever before witnessed, even when thinking back to the days of the civil war. Each man among them was tall, hulking in their thick steel plate armor, veritable giants of men recruited as much for their great size as mastery at arms. It would be a very poor bodyguard too diminutive to intercept an arrow or bullet meant for his charge after all.


    An assemblage of wicked and deadly weapons of war was to be seen, largely dominated by war hammers and halberds, but also including greatswords wielded by those of particularly exceptional skill. It was a marked difference to the simple spears and crossbows of the Home Guard, and filled Nathaniel with satisfaction as he imagined their usage against the unsuspecting Aachish mercenaries. With their enemy for the day seemingly being naught but pikemen and mere fodder, the shorter implements of the Empress¡¯s Shield would surely reap a great slaughter in the narrow confines of the outer city. Reaching the center of the parade ground, he ascended a small wooden stage, before turning to address the assembled troops.


    ¡°Wish as I might that these were better times in which we find ourselves brought together, I bid you all a good day in spite of our ill circumstance.¡± With a nod of respect to the assembled men, a honoring gesture necessitated by their long years of experience and the regiment¡¯s prestige, the tense hush hanging over the air was broken by returns to his greeting.


    ¡°The Empress¡¯s Shield stands as a stout bulwark between the Empress and those that would harm her. Though this storied regiment has had but little experience in the peaceful days since the civil war, it has preserved its elite status through constant training and strict standards of recruitment from amongst the veteran ranks of the legions. This is the greatest assemblage of fighting men in all of the Empire, a fact that each of you should bear with pride. But the Empire is no longer at peace, the Duke of Brackenweir has risen up in rebellion against our sovereign with Aachish lackies in tow. Her life is threatened, and it now falls to us to assume our duty to ensure her protection, not as mere bodyguards, but as soldiers in war fighting as a regiment. Many among your cadre of officers have asked me why I seek to deploy your strength here and now in the outer city in place of the stout palace you were endlessly drilled to defend. Know this, the Empress has demanded for this city to stand defiant in the face of the Duke¡¯s treachery, it cannot be allowed to fall. Should the curtain wall be breached, the enemy¡¯s artillery will swiftly bring down the remaining walls of the city, including those of the palace. Therefore, they cannot be allowed to take the outer city, and we shall defend it no matter the cost.¡± The crowd grew excited at the prospect of once more being able to test their mettle against an enemy.


    Life in the Empress¡¯s Shield was dull for such grizzled veterans in times of peace, and every man present was almost salivating at the thought of a fight. A few however were skeptical, would the Empress¡¯s person not be in most dire peril should the enemy send assassins in their absence? What could a mere nine hundred and fifty bodyguards do against fifty thousand invaders? Why deploy them now, when the Empress was not threatened, when the men of the Home Guard could be sent in their place? Soon the eagerness of the crowd gave way to shouted questions from loyal, but doubting men.


    ¡°What good can we accomplish that the Home Guard cannot? We number but one thousand to their twenty, and have neither the training nor the experience in the defense of the city¡¯s outer fortifications!¡± Came a shout from a reedy looking man at the fore of the ranks, bearing quill and parchment, evidently an officer.


    ¡°The Home Guard significantly out numbers the Empress¡¯s Shield, this is a fact beyond all doubt. But even with twenty thousand men they have neither the skill nor the weaponry to fight upon this field of battle. The struggle for the outer city will be fought in narrow alleyways and inside ruined homes. It will be brutal and bloody close quarters combat in which the space is too tight for formations. I and the Empress can only rely upon this regiment, upon each and every man present to perform this crucial task. This regiment is well valued for the great personal skill of its members, and today that skill will be sorely tested, for the enemy march against us with their famed Aachish mercenaries. With your skill and my tactics and designs for the city¡¯s defenses, the one thousand men of this regiment will seem as though they are many thousands more in clash against the foe.¡± Nathaniel calmly smoothed over the concerns for the extremely skewed numbers, while somewhat of a lie it would raise their spirits and encourage them to have greater confidence in their skills despite the overwhelming disparity of numbers. It would be neither good for the city¡¯s defense nor for his plans if the Empress¡¯s Shield were to be held back by mere caution.


    ¡°How shall the Empress be protected whilst the regiment is deployed elsewhere? Fifty men is not near enough to hold the palace against an enemy raid.¡± Came a shout from the back of the formation, a great bearlike man almost seven feet tall that appeared, almost regretfully, to naysay Nathaniel¡¯s plan.


    ¡°The fifty men of the regiment left behind at the palace shall ensure the Empress¡¯s protection against assassins, and it will be in your hands for her protection against the Duke¡¯s army. She has refused to abandon the city, and thus it falls to you all, her bodyguards, to give your lives to ensure that it does not. Should the city fall, she will perish, and the Empire will surely perish with her. Therefore, we cannot allow this city to fall, no matter the quantity or tactics of the foe. But fret not as inexperienced in street fighting as this regiment may be, I shall personally be assuming command and leading you into battle. We shall not let the foe advance into the inner city, we will hold them here and sell our lives as dearly as possible to ensure that they do not.¡± A cheer rang out from within the crows as he pledged to personally take them into battle. The prospect of dying, even when in service to a cause for which one holds deep conviction, was always sobering. It filled the men with passion to know that even if it was not the Empress herself they fought beside, the Lord Protector, her champion in all martial matters, was willing to risk his own life alongside theirs.


    ¡°Now go, assemble with your captains. I have delivered copies of the order of battle to every officer so that they may be appraised of my tactics. They will lead you to store rooms and hideaways scattered throughout the outer city, from which you will strike the enemy unseen from when they least expect it. The Home Guard will form formations of spear walls in the squares and plazas, everywhere that a large open space betwixt the alleyways is found to prevent the enemy from assembling into their own formations for any length of time. They will slow and halt the enemy advance, keeping them strung out and vulnerable in long columns as they attempt to press forward. But the Home Guard lacks the skill to defend the city by themselves. It will fall to you all to become the hammer that shall beat the foe against the anvil that is the Home Guard. Now disperse, quickly for even now the enemy approaches!¡± With the raising of his mailed hand clenched into a fist, Nathaniel gave the Empire¡¯s martial salute to the assembled men, who returned it before eagerly fanning out along with their captains into the outer city.


    Stepping off of the stage, he was greeted by his three bodyguards and fifty more of the Empress¡¯s Shield. They would act together to hold the main thoroughfare of the outer city that led directly to the curtain wall¡¯s gatehouse. Despite the hastily constructed barricades that were scattered elsewhere, the main road lay relatively unblocked. It was a trap meant to lure the greatest body of the enemy after they faced fierce resistance elsewhere. Where the other groups of the Empress¡¯s Shield would be scattered in groups of ten to twenty men protecting the narrow alleyways, the much larger force of fifty elite soldiers would be ready and waiting to completely obliterate the strongest and most reckless of the enemy.

 Chapter Fifteen

    The leading army of the invaders swept through the outer city like a malignant tide, crashing upon the obstacles in their path and tearing them apart. The seething tide of humanity meticulously tore all manners of barricade and rubble along their routes, clearly more interested in clearing the way for the rear army than in advancing themselves. But they did not balk at conflict either, for wherever the waves of men crashed against strongpoints held by the men of the Home Guard, much slaughter was to be had. While the coerced inductees of the Aachish mercenary regiments seemingly held little motive to pursue such an aggressive advance, from many weeks experience travelling and fighting alongside their new masters they knew well their place.


    Their sole purpose in the campaign was to draw the fire of the enemy, to pave the way for the rest of the mercenary companies forward. The sheer weight of their bodies would be the price paid in blood for every foot of the city so taken. While perhaps they could defect to the city¡¯s defenders, beg for the Empress¡¯s mercy and turn their coats against their new masters, the thought to do so did not once cross the mind of even a single man. The capture of the city was a foregone conclusion, how could it be any other in consideration for the massive disparity of numbers? Neither did any of the men hold any pretense or personal reservation over the morality of assaulting their fellow countrymen.


    No principled man would have joined the enemy, eagerly aided their homeland¡¯s invaders to despoil their own countryside, and put to death directly by the sword or indirectly by famine tens of thousands of innocents. No, the only things these men still held as sacred within the depths of their black hearts were their own miserable lives, and the alacrity with which they advanced stemmed solely from the fear of what their betters in the mercenary companies would do to them should they be found wanting. They had personally borne witness to and even aided countless atrocities by that point, and none held any desire to experience such things for themselves.


    Inch by bloody inch they pressed further into the city, the great wave dividing itself again and again as it squeezed past branching roads and arteries of the city into alleyways so narrow that only three men could march abreast. It was a godsend for the men that they were only armed with short and nimble polearms; billhooks, war scythes, and glaives fashioned from reforged farming equipment that could be swung or thrust with but little difficulty even in the tight confines of the outer city. But for all that, for all of their zeal, their armament, their absolute terror at the consequences of failure, it did little to make up for their very nature. They were undisciplined, sloppy, each man fought only for himself and damn the rest. While they held far more battle experience than any member of the Home Guard, had fought in numerous battles as the Duke¡¯s army burnt a line of desolation directly into the heart of the Empire, it availed them little. They held neither the conviction and camaraderie of the Aachish mercenaries, nor the greater cause of the Home Guard and its absolute trust in the Lord Protector who cared more for their lives than even the Empress. The inductees could not hope to understand the essence of fraternity and unity necessary to fight as a disciplined formation, and when they met with a force that did understand that concept, they found it immovable.


    Like great titans from the myths of old, the men of the Home Guard stood stalwart and defiant in the face of the waves of invaders. Neither side held an advantage in the length of their polearms, but where the inductees were emphatically thrusting about every which way in the clash, leaving gaping holes in their wall of steel as each man fought to save his own life, the Home Guard did not. A wall of sharp steel held steady in the hands of the stoic Home Guard greeted the inductees as they dashed themselves against it in their eagerness to overcome the defenders. Here and there men of the Home Guard would fall, their semi armored chests pierced through by the lucky stroke of a spear or gruesomely beheaded by the swing of a glaive, and inevitably they did give ground. But for every fallen defender, it seemed that two more would take his place. The rear ranks advanced to the front to take up the positions of the dead as the invaders fought against a seemingly endless stream of men.


    The men at the fore of the inductees may have had but little luck in pressing through the defenders, but that did nothing to quench the terror held in the hearts of the men to the rear. The Aachish mercenaries would surely soon arrive, and they could not afford to be found halted in their tracks having barely advanced a quarter of a mile. All across the outer city, the rear rank of inductees pressed forward, pushing their comrades into places where no space existed for them save that occupied by the gleaming steel tips of the Home Guard¡¯s spears. Pushed relentlessly forward, the tide of men turnt to a bleeding, screaming mass of the impaled with such horrendous sounds emanating from the dead and dying that even the rear ranks were given pause. The spears of the Home Guard had begun to buckle and snap by the time the invaders¡¯ advance finally halted, trembling in place. As those amongst the middle ranks saw naught but inescapable death before them, they quailed, edging backwards only to be stopped in their tracks by the forward pushing of the rear. Finding their only route to safety obstructed, edging gave way to pushing and prodding until finally all out shoving as the invader¡¯s formation crumbled.


    Had that been all, the vast majority of the inductees may yet have lived. They had advanced naught but a quarter mile into the outer city and while many ranks of men now lay in tangled heaps upon the bloody cobbled streets, the limited width of the roads and alleyways meant that only a relative few had so perished. The Home Guard itself would not advance, their orders and all of their training had instilled within them only the directive to stand fast in the face of the enemy. But the cruel points of the Home Guard¡¯s spears were not all that assailed the invaders, and across the breadth of the outer city the din of angry men and battle gave way to the terrified screams of one sided slaughter.


    Shaded windows were shattered, wooden doors were blown wide off of their hinges, and in many cases even entire walls that had been beforehand strategically undermined, were blown apart by a veritable flood of immense men in heavy armor. With force, those men came charging from their hiding places into the already wavering ranks of the mercenary inductees. The men of the Empress¡¯s Shield struck the foe from the flanks and the rear, carving through tightly packed bodies with practiced ease, their halberds and great swords finding little armored resistance to their wickedly sharp blades as they dismembered limbs or cut bodies in twain, while their war hammers caved in skulls and helms alike with every stroke.


    The individual compliments of the Empress¡¯s Shield were positioned in groups so small that they were always vastly outnumbered by the enemy they now engaged. It was an unfortunate necessity, owing to the small size of the regiment and the great quantities of the enemy, but this mattered little for the choking tightness of the city streets and alleyways meant only a few of the foe could engage them at any one time. Held back not by the skill at arms or equipment of the foe, but only by each man¡¯s personal stamina, every member of the Empress¡¯s Shield became death incarnate.


    They were mad demons, awash with so much blood that the steel helms of their armored bulk became completely doused. With every turn of their heads or swipe of their weapons they spattered the crimson ichor in a shower of metallic drops. Their expressions could not be seen through the thick obscuring great helms they wore, but surely, they must be cackling madly, predatory grins of bestial delight twisting their faces with rabid joy as they rent their victims limb from limb. Advantaged not only by their vastly superior skill at arms but also by the element of surprise and nigh impenetrable armor, the invaders could scarce touch them and for every such mad demon fallen, hundreds of invaders joined him in finality.


    With the sergeants of the enemy embedded mostly to the rear of their columns, the invaders found themselves almost entirely without direction within minutes of the assault. Trumpeters, officers, and even the banner bearers themselves were swiftly slain before the rest of their companies even held even the presence of mind to notice their attackers. With none left to give orders, to raise the banners high for the survivors to rally, the companies were rendered sluggish and unadaptable to the changing circumstances. With their formations all but crumbling already from their ongoing clash with the Home Guard, they seemed to evaporate entirely as the Empress¡¯s Shield began its slaughter. Panicked men from the rear ranks fled towards the front while the front ranks desperately tried to prevent themselves joining the steadily growing pile of bodies below the tips of the Home Guard¡¯s spears. Neither end of the scrambling column allowed the other a means of retreat, and the entire mass was with fatal inevitability pushed upon the waiting ranks of the Home Guard and slain to a man.


    Such unilateral victories were not the case in every engagement. In some the Home Guard had been drowned by weight of number by the tide of enemies upon their first contact, and the survivors of the clash were free to march deeper into the outer city. In such cases, they would later be met by the grim faced ranks of the Home Guard¡¯s second or third lines of defense, who knowing what had befallen their fellows avenged their deaths with furious determination. In others, the men of the Empress¡¯s Shield failed to make a timely appearance, whether appearing too swiftly and being pressed into their own retreat by a seemingly endless sea of foes or arriving too late and finding their counterparts in the Home Guard destroyed entirely or otherwise heavily weakened from repelling the enemy assault by their own power.


    In several cases, the quantity of the Empress¡¯s Shield had been found insufficient, whether by a fiercer resistance than had been expected, unfavorable terrain, or even their own places of concealment being discovered early by particularly cautious enemies mattered little, for very few men lived to retreat in such circumstances. But these instances of failure or unexpected losses were rare with respect to the battlefield as a whole, and nearly the entire advancing force of mercenary inductees, or at least those posted to the ancillary avenues of the city, lay in tangled bloody heaps or were in full flight.


    The city¡¯s main thoroughfare, however, was different to the narrow alleyways that had so defined the rest of the battle thus far. It was wide, intended to allow great processions of the Empire¡¯s legions entry to the inner city. Nearly one hundred men could stand abreast in the grand street, a width that no makeshift barricade in the world could have obstructed. Thus, it was decided to not even attempt to do so with such primitive defenses, and the street was kept wide and open. It was almost suspiciously so, at least to the enemy that had retreated from the choked alleyways of other engagements.


    Such keen deductions on the part of a few unlucky souls that had been met with failure elsewhere and joined up with the main force of the invaders were correct. It was unsurprising that such unnatural emptiness had been deliberate, for the wide avenue that had once been choked full of wagons and workers holding all manner of cargo had been purposefully cleared earlier that week to leave it barren and devoid of any obstacle. While some of the wiser members of the invading force may have been aghast at the thought of the city¡¯s defenders willfully forgoing such a great advantage, they knew not the true purpose. For while barricades and rubble had been used to stem the tide of the enemy elsewhere, to slow them down or redirect them from the smaller roads, the defense of Maegwyn¡¯s main thoroughfare would be decided by the strength and courage of men.


    A deathly silence hung over the advancing mass of mercenary inductees, broken only by hushed whispers and the slight sound of leather gloves gripping tightly upon cold steel. In the distance, the roar of battle raging elsewhere could be heard. With the obstruction of the large and imposing intervening buildings that thoroughly isolated the road, it could not be sensed by any man present the course of the battle. But that their fellows had encountered the city¡¯s defenders was a certainty, and knowing that fact only made the ease of their progress thus far more tense.


    It was plainly evident from the sound at least that the battle was not the one sided slaughter that every man there had so desperately hoped, for the clashing of steel upon steel rang out almost as loudly as the blood curdling screams of the dying. But for all that noise, not a single soul amongst the city¡¯s defenders was to be found, the street hauntingly empty and bereft of any indication that humans had ever lived there at all. Occasionally a slight breeze would blow, loudly rattling panes of glass or swinging wooden window shutters wide, and every man would feel mortal terror building within the depths of his heart.


    These men were no professional soldiers, but hastily impressed farmers and hunters. Their minds were easily given over to fear and doubt at even the most slight ill omen as their worries assailed them. The enemy must be lurking within the surrounding buildings! They could only have given themselves away by accident and would surely soon be upon the column! But these wild imaginings were met with only disappointment, to the immense relief of many. Anytime a suspicious sound was heard, one of the sergeants organizing the general advance would direct a few men to investigate while the column moved on, for they could not afford to halt for even the briefest of moments. But all such reconnaissance was met with were empty homes, devoid even of furniture so frantically had they been stripped bare.


    That the city¡¯s defenders had emptied even the houses lining the avenue as they had the street itself was mystifying, and confusion and lack of comprehension led the invaders¡¯ minds to the worst of imaginings. To have taken even the very furniture from homes, items that could have proven crucial to the city¡¯s defenders for the construction of barriers or makeshift pavaise and not used one scrap of it to block the invaders¡¯ advance was an act of such insanity it boggled the mind. This was the widest road, the majority of the invading army out of any route in the city had set upon its course, company by company arranged in as proper a formation as could be managed with their admittedly limited armament. An obstruction anywhere along the path would have broken formations, forced men to part as the great body of troops squeezed its way through, slowing the whole column, tens of companies and thousands of men down to a crawl. But their advance was unimpeded, swiftly moving through to the very heart of the city at a brisk marching pace.


    It was almost as if the city¡¯s defenders wanted them to advance, to take in the greatest amount of the invaders directly to the heart of the city. But for what purpose? The mercenaries, even if they had never been to the city themselves knew well the route, for the Duke¡¯s men who most assuredly had thus travelled had described their intended target to the utmost detail. The main thoroughfare travelled directly to the curtain wall¡¯s gatehouse, twisting and turning as it went to provide ample cover from the city¡¯s cannons. But for all that distance, it never narrowed and on its steady course the army would soon reach the walls, ready to begin its attempt to break through them.


    The Home Guard could not be so dull, so imbecilic, as to believe allowing the invaders uncontested access to their ultimate objective would bring any advantage. Yet here they were, almost an entire half mile advanced into the outer city. They had not been inconvenienced or delayed by so much as a minute up to that point. Men who had been jittery and fearful of the possibility of an enemy ambush had begun to let their nervous worries vanish, as with every step no attack was made. Every time scouts investigated a building, they found naught but dust. Gradually an army that had defined itself by their jittery nature grew bolder, ignoring the sounds that occasionally made their way down from the surrounding buildings entirely to advance forward.


    Eventually the column was joined, at first in the ones or twos, slowly but steadily, only to grow into a steady stream by their fellows who had attacked the city from other directions. It would seem that the rest of the city had not been as barren as the main avenue. The first companies to join up with the advancing column had not seen the Home Guard themselves, but had passed through numerous obstacles and crude traps of weakly supported rubble. Delayed most certainly, but having been minimally impacted, they were surprised to find that their chosen route converged with the city¡¯s main artery rather than bypassing it. Later came others, those who had successfully managed to drive the Home Guard from their choke points or that had redirected their assault upon finding the Home Guard¡¯s positions to be unassailable. None that reached the advancing column, however, had encountered the men of the Empress¡¯s Shield, for to lay eyes upon such men was to bring only death and suffering upon her enemies. Thus, the column continued, unsure of what they may encounter but blissfully ignorant of the cruel whims of fate.


    The invaders were finally brought to a halt within Victory Square, a grand plaza that had been built within the outer city to commemorate the triumph of the Empress during the civil war. Though it had since fallen upon difficult times, its buildings still remained stout and strong. Being constructed not of the mere timber and thatch so common elsewhere in the district, but of durable and ageless stone and mortar, they had aged gracefully while the city decayed around them. None of the demolitions made to enhance the city¡¯s defenses had dared to consider toppling such sturdy constructions, for the stone was mighty enough that it would take a barrage of cannon to bring it down. These great buildings lined the plaza, casting it in shadow under the ever watchful eyes of a weathered bronze statue cast in the Empress¡¯s image. However, it was not these abnormally grand, for the likes of the outer city at least, buildings that had so abruptly halted the invaders, but the amassed ranks of the Home Guard.


    While constrained within the rest of the city to fight in small groups numbering less than one hundred, in formations not even five abreast in many circumstances, here they were arrayed in whole companies. As if to mirror that of the invaders, the Home Guard had formed into large blocks of spearmen and occupied the northern half of the plaza. While the area was too constrained to perform proper field maneuvers, it was large enough for several companies to muster side by side. Furthermore, the Home Guard themselves had brought thousands of men, the entirety of the great company under the second captain of foot. Though still greatly outnumbered by the invaders, they held fast in the face of the enemy, their spears thrust outward as they prepared to receive a charge. It seemed to the inducted mercenaries that the battle would be decided in an open engagement, one free from the trickery so evident elsewhere in the city. Their spirits were raised, for in the limited time that they had trained under the instruction of the Aachish in the arts of war, they had primarily prepared for battles in just such conditions.


    ¡°Men of the Home Guard, today these base marauders run through our city with hate in their hearts and death upon their spears. They seek nothing short of the destruction of all we hold dear, in service to a coward and traitor that would see our fair lands set ablaze. I ask you now, stand strong, stand firm! For even if we die today upon the blades of the enemy, we fight not for ourselves but for that of our people, our wives, our children!¡± A large man armored in antiquated but thick plate armor in a style not dissimilar to that of Nathaniel gave a rousing speech to the assembled men of the Home Guard.


    This was the second captain of foot himself, Gerald Nibbons, and with an impassioned cry he raised a large mace to the sky in defiance of the invader. Caring not for his own life, he stood upon the base of the Empress¡¯s statue, visible for all in the plaza to see, stoking the fires within the hearts of his men. Beside him stood the company¡¯s ancient, the standard emblazoned with the Lord Protector¡¯s seal held high. Brash and foolish like so many of his fellow captains, the man sought only to win the day. While such a belief was commendable on the part of the city¡¯s defenders, he was unfortunately unable to grasp his own importance to the Empress¡¯s armies, armies that hopefully would survive for longer than a mere day of battle. Almost as if rehearsed, the invaders became incensed at that speech and charged forward into the waiting ranks of the Home Guard.


    ¡°That fool better not get himself killed¡­¡± Nathaniel muttered as he perched low by a barely open shutter, observing the antics of the third captain of foot in evident displeasure. The lines had barely been joined, and already the man¡¯s arrogance had led to the focusing of several of the enemy¡¯s skirmishers upon him, peppering the company¡¯s standard and the Empress¡¯s statue in arrows.


    ¡°When will we strike?¡± Suddenly from his right, came the impatient voice of Andross, almost seething in anger as he was forced to stand by and watch the unfolding battle from above.


    ¡°In due time Andross, while I have utmost faith in your regiment, we are but fifty to many, many more. If we wish to tip the scales of this battle we must bide our time.¡± Stirred from his pondering of the battle, Nathaniel¡¯s soothing voice filled the air of the room. His tone was soft and calming, as if coddling a child. Not that Andross was one of course, but the man was impulsive and perpetually wrathful. It never hurt to calm him, and whether caused by a lack of intelligence or unwavering trust in the Empress, he was surprisingly receptive to being so treated.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Hidden inside the stout homes surrounding the plaza were Nathaniel and his entire compliment of the Empress¡¯s Shield. Joining them, were approximately two hundred men of the Home Guard seconded from its third great company, crossbowmen all. From the shuttered windows of the buildings, they could hear the clash of battle. Screams and shouts echoed throughout the sturdy perimeter of the plaza and rang inside the ears of nervous men. They had lain hidden for an hour before the enemy had begun to pass by, making as great a speed as they could manage towards the city¡¯s curtain wall.


    It was a gamble to be sure, allowing the foe to draw so near on only the third day of siege. If the Home Guard lost this engagement, then it was a likelihood that the entirety of the mercenary force would sweep down upon a lightly defended curtain wall and breach it entirely. But the bold strategies of the Duke could only be countered by equally bold strategies on the part of the Lord Protector. With the vast majority of the enemy lured into the plaza after facing such stiff resistance elsewhere, they were primed and vulnerable, ready to be torn apart when the trap was finally sprung. But Nathaniel could not act yet, for many men more still marched into the plaza and the morale of the invaders still held firm. Only when they revealed their vulnerabilities would the time be right to close the trap about their heads.


    ¡°The Home Guard has not the means to win this battle alone, the mercenaries will not falter without our intervention! Every defender slain is an arrow of the Empress plucked from its quiver and trodden upon the ground; we must intercede!¡± Peeved at Nathaniel¡¯s dismissal of his question, Andross pointed to the window through which the sounds of battle echoed. Outside the Home Guard were hard pressed to fight off the invaders now that they fought upon even footing, formation against formation.


    ¡°I myself have no love for the sacrifices that we must make either, but for the defense of the city these deaths are necessary. We cannot afford to stumble now, so close to our goal. With every passing minute more of the enemy are brought into our trap. It is not by caution that we will bleed the army of the Duke dry, but by bold action.¡± Quenching the longing to join battle within his own heart, Nathaniel put on the stone faced guise of a general as he patiently explained their inaction to Andross.


    It seemed that no matter how carefully he discussed his plans with other commanders, his bodyguards remained ignorant of their meaning. Perhaps he had only himself to blame, these men were new acquaintances, ones who had never held command and had never been upon the losing side of a battle. They knew not the necessity of sacrifice. While Nathaniel himself may have yearned to join with battle, to protect the lives of his countrymen that he had sworn to protect when he assumed the position of Lord Protector all of those long years ago, he knew that their deaths were a necessity. As much as he may have placed the lives of his men even over the carefully laid plans of the Empress, in this circumstance for his stratagems to have any success at all it would need to be made over the cold bodies of his men.


    Outside, the mercenaries tore through the Home Guard with more success than they had found in any other engagement, reaping a deadly harvest as they cut their way through the block of spearmen. Emboldened by the success of the front ranks, the long column of men continued to advance into the plaza, where its individual companies soon filled the remaining space. Among the infantrymen was a single horseman, one equipped in dull and battle worn steel, but not one of Albion¡¯s archaic designs. While many of the sergeants and captains that lay concealed behind thousands of their own men held some manner of scavenged armor or castoffs from the Duke¡¯s army, this man was suited in one of Aachish make.


    This must be the commander, Nathaniel noted to his surprise. Distinct from all other officers in oncoming mercenary horde, this man stood apart both by his unique armor and the large destrier upon which he was mounted. Nathaniel had assumed that the endless rains would have ensured any horsemen amongst the enemy fought dismounted, but evidently this mercenary captain had deemed the imposing height of his mount necessary for the battle ahead and braved the muck filled track surrounding the city upon his horse. This could not be just any mercenary captain, the man looked out arrogantly as hundreds of men, both his own and the city¡¯s defenders, were struck dead by the clash of battle. Furthermore, he was surrounded by several similarly if less elaborately armored men, albeit men outfitted in antiques that could only have been fashioned in Albion. This could only be the commander of the entire detachment, a target then Nathaniel mused.


    ¡°No, they will not win this battle alone, I agree. But the enemy¡¯s moral will falter long before the Home Guard are defeated entirely, look how even now they struggle and doubt upon facing stiffer resistance than expected!¡± Peering out the window with his head held low to prevent being seen, Nathaniel watched as the invaders clashed against the Home Guard.


    In terms of weaponry, the invaders far outclassed the Home Guard, and the wicked blades of their billhooks and glaives reaped a grim harvest from the ranks of the city¡¯s defenders. But despite the immense rate of attrition within the front ranks, the men of the Home Guard held firm and steady, forcing the enemy to all but willfully impale themselves upon their proffered spears to advance inch by bloody inch. It was not merely by skill at arms or superior weaponry that decided battle, but also courage, the hearts of men. The mercenaries certainly held greater individual skill, but that paled in comparison to the bravery of the city¡¯s defenders, and as in so many other engagements throughout the city the Home Guard held firm.


    ¡°I see now¡­  The invaders appear to be stalling. I do not think that I will ever agree with your ruthless tactics, but it seems that your ploy has met with some success. I must admit, I did not expect to see such ferocity possessed by¡­ mere peasants. I will defer to your greater experience.¡± After several minutes of raging battle had passed, Andross saw the sheer courage of the Home Guard and, thoroughly embarrassed from misjudging the situation, he apologized to Nathaniel.


    He was surprised to see such heart possessed by mere conscripts, and hastily trained equipped ones at that. His expectations for the city¡¯s defenders had been lain low after observing how similar men had buckled easily at the earth works upon contact with the enemy. For men of such a lesser regiment as the Home Guard, especially one consisting of the same class of men that had proven its weakness beyond all doubt during the first day of battle¡­ it was a miracle. Such zeal, they could have been members of the Empress¡¯s Shield themselves with such devotion did they refuse to break even in the face of such seemingly insurmountable numbers.


    ¡°You¡­ This is the turning point. Look how the fierce expressions upon the faces of the Duke¡¯s men sink and turn to despair. They thought they had already won as they felled the first ranks of our spearmen, but they still stand strong. Crossbowmen, launch at will upon the enemy! Men of the Empress¡¯s Shield, to arms! Follow me into battle and we shall drive these dogs from our city!¡± Unworried about giving their position away now that they trap had finally been sprung, Nathaniel loudly gave the order to attack to all of the assembled men.


    Closed shutters opened with a bang, one overlooked and drowned out by the sounds of combat. But what could not be so overlooked was the steel rain that soon fell upon the enemy. While Nathaniel¡¯s orders had only been heard in one among dozens of houses lining the plaza, the onset of the deluge of crossbow bolts was the call to action for the others. Soon, all around the plaza the deadly missiles were disgorged, falling upon the foe with an almost unnatural accuracy as even the most blind of marksmen could scarce miss when shooting into the throng of enemy bodies. The already stalling advance of the enemy hated completely in confusion as they came under attack from every direction.


    While the rate of loosing the heavy crossbows given to the Home Guard was by no means swift, they made up for the long delay between launched missiles with sheer volume. The enemy at first was paralyzed by the sudden eruption of violence and death within their own ranks. It was especially shocking after they had advanced so far into the city and not once did they encounter an enemy ambush. But the screams of swiftly dying men and the hot sprays of arterial blood jetting out from where the dead and dying had been penetrated could not be ignored.


    Thinking quickly, evidently an experienced men well used to the chaos of battle, the mercenary¡¯s commander made loud rousing calls to the companies that were soon relayed by trumpeter and standard bearer. Under the blaring of horns and the waving of banners, men who had once been confused and fearful became focused, their anger and terror directed towards the source of the sudden ambush. In a mad dash, the men nearest to the houses began to charge against them. But after hacking down tightly locked doors with their weapons they came face to face with the Empress¡¯s Shield. No matter how quick upon his feet the mercenary commander was, no matter how experienced in battle or tight the grasp of his hand upon the whip of order may be, he could not have prepared his men for this.


    The mercenaries were weak, cowardly even. They were used to the slaughter of the heavily outnumbered or the unarmed, men who had at worst thought only that they would be set against those in similar circumstances to their own. When the news of the great victory of the earth works had circulated amongst the Duke¡¯s encampment, they had rejoiced for they knew that they would not be faced with the knights and men at arms of the Empire¡¯s nobility. The Home Guard were but peasants, ones who had not even been tempered in the atmosphere of fear and greed that had been so carefully cultivated by the Aachish mercenaries. But unfortunately for the mercenary inductees, what lay in ambush for them inside the houses lining the plaza were not men of the Home Guard, but the epitome of martial skill and knightly virtue left in the entire Empire.


    ¡°With me!¡± With a raging battle cry, Nathaniel at the forefront of his companions launched himself against the ranks of the mercenaries, a bloodied great sword held high and his war hammer dangling from his belt. He was soon followed by fifty men of the Empress¡¯s Shield, their unexpected appearance and their terrifying skill driving a wedge deep into the heart of the invaders¡¯ formation.


    As premature as his attack was, striding out before even his bodyguards could join him, Nathaniel became quickly surrounded. But for a warrior of his caliber, such an encirclement meant only more souls for his sword to harvest, and with but a few swings he found himself surrounded only by the dismembered bodies of the slain. His thick, archaic armor may have been of but little use against armor piercing spurs or the increasingly common bullets fired from an arquebus, but against the shoddy weapons of the mercenary inductees it was all but impenetrable.


    Not stopping for a moment to parry or dodge the strike of an enemy, for such actions would swiftly drain his stamina and were only of any real utility against men of a similar caliber to his own, he charged forward into an ever thickening crowd of the enemy. With every step, short spears or glaives came screaming towards him, only to be deflected from his armor by a timely angling of an armored gauntlet, pauldron, or his cuirass. His great sword cut through the hafts of thrust spears or glaives with ease, leaving their wielders dumb struck until his sword cleft their heads from their shoulders. Only when he was assailed by the spur of a halberd did he ever pause, expertly deflecting the blade with one stroke only to return the favor by disemboweling the attacker with another. Surrounded by so much death and blood, his brain tuning out the screams of the dead and dying to which he had long been inured, he felt¡­ at peace. Nay, excited, perhaps even in frenzy!


    It was truly exhausting to deal with the flightful fancies and gross inexperience on the part of the Empress, and it was an unexpected joy to lose himself in the throes of battle. While he had slain many at the earth works as he stood by as observer, it was never truly enough for the enemy had already been half beaten by the time they reached the lines of the city¡¯s defenders. But here¡­ there were so many bodies, so many targets to prove his mastery over and to ease his frustrations within the whirlwind of battle. It had been so long since the civil war, so very long since he had last been able to let himself go and simply to engage in almost mindless slaughter as he cleft through foes of such vastly inferior skill. He had thought that perhaps his days of blood lust were behind him, only to feel absolutely overcome with furious emotion after entering the melee. But despite the tumultuous combination of glee and hatred towards the foe that spun around his head, delighting in his wanton slaughter, his mind retained his target ¨C the mercenary commander.


    Despite his intense emotions, for an aging man in his late thirties the rigors of battle were trying. No matter his experience or the ease by which he dispatched his attackers, bit by bit he felt his strength draining away. He would not be able to reach his target, the one whose death would surely plunge the rest of the enemy army into absolute chaos. He no longer possessed the power and endurance of his youth, and the number of enemies mounted by the second as the enemy commander marshalled his forces against Nathaniel.


    Or at least, he would not be able to accomplish his objective alone. Suddenly the foes to Nathaniel¡¯s rear were cut down and he once more joined by his three bodyguards, Andross the first among them who reached Nathaniel with the head of a mercenary impaled upon his great sword.


    ¡°Slow down Lord Protector, I will not explain to the Empress why her champion lies slaughtered at the hands of mere peasants!¡± With a growl of anger directed at Nathaniel¡¯s recklessness, Andross chided him. Though angry at the thought of failing in his duties to protect his charge, his feelings were tempered by his own glee at finally engaging in battle against the hated foe.


    ¡°How could I ever be laid low at the hands of such men? You delude yourself Andross! Now to arms, we must slay the enemy general or soon they shall recover!¡± In a better mood than he had felt in years now that he was thoroughly covered in blood and gore, Nathaniel eagerly exclaimed his intent.


    Now with the added weight of three of the Empress¡¯s Shield, and the bulk of the enemy¡¯s attention drawn by the fanning out of fifty others of that famed regiment¡¯s numbers, Nathaniel rapidly progressed towards the foe. As he progressed, his mind coldly observed a decapitated head roll out from within its cleft helmet. The face of the head was clean shaven and flush with childish fat, this was no Aachish mercenary but a mere lad of Albion. He had thought it odd at first, that the first of the mercenary armies would be so lightly armed and green in battle. It did not match at all with the black reputation of such companies. But his idle ponderings were answered as he beheld the faces of his own countrymen with each strike of his sword. How pathetic, to be driven by such greed as to take up service in the arms of the traitor, to despoil their fellows and country for naught but mere gold. The Duke had more to answer for than he had ever thought previously, turning men of Albion over to the rabid dogs of Aachenwald to be corrupted into the gods only knew what manner of base creature.


    Eventually, the party cleared a bloody path into the heart of the mercenary formation. So much terror did their assault wreak that naught but the commander¡¯s bodyguards dared to stand in their way, all others having long fled screaming. With a nod to his bodyguards, the group split four ways with Nathaniel approaching the mercenary commander alone while his three bodyguards engaged their counterparts. Trembling in both anger and blood lust, he gave no formal challenge as he flung himself bodily at the mercenary commander, his great sword pointed forward in a thrust. Before the man could even react, Nathaniel¡¯s sword pierced straight through the chest of the commander¡¯s steed, instantly slaying it and causing the man to tumble bodily to the ground.


    But this man was a veteran far and above the likes of the rest of the army, an officer pulled from the Aachish ranks solely to command by whip and sword the newly inducted members of the mercenaries. He would not take his death lying down, and quickly sprang up despite his heavy armor in an impressive display of both strength and agility. Nathaniel withdrew his sword from the body of the fallen horse, attempting to bring it down upon the commander¡¯s head only for his strike to be deflected in turn. Surprised at the skillful display, Nathaniel could not bring his own sword back into a striking stance before he was kicked heavily in the chest and fell backward, his great sword going flying from his grasp.


    Knocked flat onto his back with the wind knocked from his lungs by the compression of his steel armor against his chest, Nathaniel struggled to get up. As he looked up, he blinked, the overcast sky darkened by the face of the mercenary commander, his sword held aloft and ready to drive down into Nathaniel¡¯s prone form. With a snarl, Nathaniel rolled to his side, avoiding the downward strike of the commander, while quickly springing up. The commander¡¯s sword deflected off of the cobbled stone of the street, the man¡¯s hands shaking. Nathaniel examined his own hands, finding them empty, his own sword flung several paces away. He would need to finish the fight without the use of his sword.


    Thinking quickly, he bent low and ran forward in a charge as the commander attempted to recover his shaking arm, catching the man in the torso. While the commander was clearly quite a bit younger and far more agile, he was not the heavier of the two, especially not with the extreme weight of the archaic armor of Albion, and Nathaniel succeeded in tackling him to the ground. The commander¡¯s own sword was dropped in the scuffle as both men fell hard upon the stone street. The two men struggled on the ground, the commander struggling to push Nathaniel off, while Nathaniel pinned the man¡¯s limbs to the ground. However, the commander was stronger than Nathaniel and no sooner had he thought he had successfully pinned the commander¡¯s limbs did the commander grab Nathaniel and roll to the side.


    Now trapped below, Nathaniel saw the cold gleam of triumph in the commander¡¯s eyes as he reached for a knife, only for Nathaniel to bared his own devilish grin as his mailed fist came hurtling at the commander¡¯s helm. The commander blinked his eyes, mildly concussed and discombobulated by the sudden blunt force, only for Nathaniel¡¯s fist to come forward once again. Now, weak in his limbs he was easily pushed off by Nathaniel, who proceeded to pummel the man¡¯s helmet with both of his fists. His gauntlets creaked and complained, but the heavy metal was sturdy, something he had experienced for himself over long years upon campaign, and it did not give. The air gave a resounding crack as the commander¡¯s face guard gave way, caving in until the metal bit deep into the flesh of his face.


    ¡°M-m-mercy! Y-y-you can take me for r-r-ransom!¡± With bloody rivulets falling down the man¡¯s face and a bloody mouth from Nathaniel¡¯s fists, he begged for his life, now deeply humbled from the fight.


    ¡°What need have I of gold? I only crave the blood and tears of my enemies. We offer no mercy, for none has been offered to us!¡± His own grin turning into a maniacal smile underneath the cover of his helmet, Nathaniel returned the commander¡¯s pleading for mercy with another mailed fist.


    With fist after fist, the commander¡¯s face was turned into a bloody ruin as bones snapped like brittle ceramic under Nathaniel¡¯s tyrannous hand. With every strike, more and more viscous crimson ichor covered his armored hands and spattered the area indiscriminately. Soon the commander¡¯s head was nothing more than a ruined, oozing mess, completely devoid of life. Nathaniel stood up with a blissful sigh, covered in detritus from the day¡¯s encounters. It always felt so good to engage in single combat with a worthy opponent, it brought his blood to a pleasant boil and let him forget all of his worries, entrusting his life to the certainty of steel.


    Around the victorious Nathaniel, lay the slumped bodies of the commander¡¯s bodyguards. Though they had outnumbered the Empress¡¯s Shield by two men, all of them lay dead upon the ground, the killing blows having been delivered precisely to their most vulnerable places, whether by stroke to a chink in their armor or a simple crushing of their helmet with a war hammer. Not a man among the Empress¡¯s Shield spoke in either congratulation or denunciation, their stark silence while not contrary to their normal behavior also revealing their horror at the ruin of what had once been Nathaniel¡¯s opponent. Around the four men, the rest of the mercenary company stood in shocked silence, having seen the commander that had brought them to torturous fear for the past month now lying all but obliterated from existence upon the ground, his crazed killer covered head to toe in blood. Quickly the surrounding men fled, running every which way in an attempt to escape from the crazed killer and his armored companions.


    ¡°Conserve your strength, they are already broken and will be brought down either by our crossbowmen or themselves in their frenzy.¡± With a raising of his hand, Nathaniel stopped his bodyguards from chasing any of the fleeing men down.


    Nathaniel¡¯s bodyguards nodded in assent as they looked at the retreating men. While they had decimated one company in their pursuit of the army¡¯s commander, the rest of the plaza was still filled with dozens of others engaged in mortal struggle with both the Home Guard and the other pockets of the Empress¡¯s Shield. The air was filled with deadly missiles and screams of pain and death as the battle raged on.


    While Nathaniel¡¯s group engaged with the enemy commander, the men that had attempted to storm the veritable fortresses from which hundreds of crossbowmen spat death were easily repelled by the heavily armored infantry of the Empress¡¯s Shield. Walls of steel quickly formed around the houses, making them all but impenetrable even given the shocking numbers disparity, for the already disillusioned mercenaries with their peasant weapons and largely unarmored bodies were no match for the Empress¡¯s bodyguards.


    Had the collective mass of invaders held firm, had a wise commander kept their fear in check and reorganized them to destroy the small pockets of the bodyguards with the sheer weight of their bodies then disaster may yet have been averted. Before he was engaged, the enemy commander had been making efforts to that effect, and had in several cases succeeded in forcing the Empress¡¯s Shield back. But with any leadership the mercenaries may have had otherwise occupied, the commander of the army now lying slain and the various sergeants and captains having joined him in death or lost control of their men entirely, their companies trembled under the withering rain of death. All across the plaza, the invaders¡¯ lines buckled before dissolving, each man within the column fighting only for himself as he sought to escape.


    As a body not dissimilar to a mass of insects, the invaders retreated, casting off armor, weapons, anything that could slow them as they desperately fled back from whence they came. The Home Guard let them retreat, although the rain of deadly missiles did not abate until the last man had cleared the plaza in contemptible retreat. Thousands of the foe lay dead or dying on the street, and the men of the Empress¡¯s Shield gave final mercy to any they found that still drew breath. But the Home Guard did not retreat, holding firm in formation, albeit at a more relaxed posture, for this battle at least they had won greatly with only a few hundred of their own slain for a great reaping of the enemy.


    A sense of jubilation threatened to sweep over the city¡¯s defenders until the good sentiment was stifled and smothered in its cradle by the forbidding blaring of a trumpet. It was unlike those that had been employed by the mercenaries before. One more deep and threatening than the more shrill and loud trumpets preferred by the legions of Albion. It was an Aachish trumpet. The trumpeting sounds were soon followed by intense screaming as what could only have been the shattered remnants of the forward army of the mercenaries met with the rear army in their flight ¨C and were summarily executed. It was only practical after all, the retreating men were too few to ever pose much of a threat again, and their flight only worsened the morale of the Duke¡¯s army and raised the spirits of the city¡¯s defenders. Their deaths, cruel and merciless coming from their own allies, would serve as a warning to the rest of those that dared to stand in the Duke¡¯s way. Soon the screams silenced, the brutal work having been finished, and the rear army of the mercenaries, the real Aachish mercenaries, marched into view from around the bend of the road.